


Bulletprone

by regsregis



Series: Breaking your habits [4]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-01 22:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10201892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regsregis/pseuds/regsregis
Summary: It's been 8 years since Helios came crashing down and Jack, thanks to what Rhys has found in the Vault of the Traveller is up and running and causing troubles again. Except there is a heck tone of people wanting to pick a bone with him as he struggles to save his reluctant special boy.





	1. A call to arms

-Jack-

Jack can feel the corrupted data nagging at the back of his mind, fueling his new obsession and he can’t help but just -give in-. He figures it’s part of the original programming fighting against the override he’s been trying to inflict upon himself and his attempts at becoming his own person, built around tentative trust placed in Atlas’ president and his new obligations to the company, are honest but futile. At first he doesn’t notice it creeping up but once it hits in full force, he’s completely consumed, Handsome Jack’s famous tunnel vision becoming centered on a single entity, clear goal in his mind. 

Thankfully this single entity doesn’t mind having Jack in his face nearly 24/7. He has virtually latched himself onto the other man, grumpy every time he’s kicked out and forced to deal with Foxglove, coming back nearly every night. He’s in too deep to resurface again, choking down on thoughts crowding in his brain and the constant tick-tock of the doomsday clock making him restless. One thing that manages to snuff out the fire, even if temporarily, is when he knows Rhys’ world is narrowed down to Jack and Jack only. Egoistic as it is, it’s all Jack knows, head swimming with need and anger and -ache- he never wanted. It’s hard to distinguish between Handsome Jack’s obsession and lust for power and -Jack’s- little infatuation, an odd molotov’s cocktail of two, only vaguely different personalities.

And so he keeps trying to occupy Rhys’ as well as his mind every waking hour.

They fuck.

They grab a quickie between the meetings in the bathroom.

They rub it off with Jack’s naked ass pressed to the large window in Rhys’ apartment.

He begs Rhys to fuck him in the CEO’s office, something which the other man adamantly refuses to do.

One morning he shoves his hands down the front of Rhys’ pants when he’s eating and then there is milk and cereal spilled all over the couch.

The next evening he manages to talk Rhys into blowing him, hands tied behind his back and a collar partly covering the tattoos on his neck.

On one particular ride between the cities he puts a teasing hand on Rhys’ thigh but ends up swatted away and Jack sulks for a whole hour.

Rhys lets him live out his dirtiest fantasies, lithe form pressed over his freckled back as he rocks back and forth between the dick in his ass and metallic fingers in his mouth.

He’s not stupid enough to refuse admitting, at least, to himself the grim truth. He’s making memories, carefully stored in the data bank and left for later. And he progressively files all the blanks, building the perfect image in his mind. The way Rhys’ eyes gleam mischievously and the way his jaw clenches when a sharp slap lands against his bare ass. The way he drools in his sleep and the way he snaps when Jack steps on his toes. He could go on forever. 

But it can only last so long and when he’s not around Jack’s mind is frantically trying to find a better solution. He regularly keeps slipping Rhys documents and permits to sign, slowly gaining executive rights over bigger and bigger chunks of Atlas, reasoning with the other man that sooner or later he will need them regardless. Rhys doesn’t protest. He doesn’t protest either when it becomes apparent to everyone that Jack is slowly dethroning the current CEO. With more and more funds and resources at his disposal, he’s ready to overturn the whole world only to get what he wants.

And then one day he stumbles across a message, meant for the other man most likely, but his eyes brighten, shit-eating smirk curling his lips as the solution practically presents itself to him. It takes a few carefully placed phone calls and some white lies nonchalantly slipped here and there and he’s ready to gear up.

 

-II-

A couple more days, a few late night calls just to hear the other breathing and one backpack packed with the essentials later, he shows up at Rhys’ doorstep again, setting sun casting warm shadows over his tired face. He takes in the details of this infuriating man, cheeks now gaunt, lips dry and a sheen of sweat on his skin. That’s one thing Jack can see himself respecting, with every ounce of power Rhys loses to his ailment he works twice as hard to regain it, countless hours spent at the gym and shooting range, muscles not yet turned wiry but he’s lost his baby fat and there is that particular sharp hardness to the outline of his figure now. 

There are hands fisted in the front of Rhys’ tank top, unyielding force pushing him against the nearest wall and teeth against his lips. Not a word of protest uttered even though two dark eyebrows shoot up in surprise. 

“Hello to you too.” Rhys rasps when he gets the chance and gives a light shove to put some space between them. Jack however is having none of it but at least he lets the other man catch a breath, face tucked into the crook of his neck, a full body press keeping him pinned to the wall. He smells amazing, a trace of his aftershave mingled with sweat and something unmistakingly -Rhys-, Jack nosing along the curve of his throat and burning the scent into his brain as he gives a slow grind of his hips.

-II-

Sat on the edge of their shared bed Jack lets his head droop, staring at the tips of his boots as he fixes a glove over his hand, fully dressed and ready to get moving. Or is he really ready?

Part of him hates how dramatic his next words will sound, but the rest of him… the rest of him desperately hopes for the right reaction to come. Maybe, just maybe, sad brown and yellow eyes and thick eyebrows pulled into a pleading expression could make him turn back. Top that with some tears and begging and there’s a chance the override would finally kick in. He wants and loathes it at the same time, torn between two polar opposites, too restless to stay and at the same time too involved to just go.

“Rhys… I’m leaving.” Ah but he loves him some drama regardless of his conflicted feelings. 

“Mmm? Okay.” Rhys on the other hand seems completely unfazed and whether he genuinely doesn’t grasp the scope of his words or can’t be bothered to show that it has affected him in any way will forever remain his sweet secret.

“No. I mean. I’m -leaving-.” His eyes skim over the other man, lying on his side and facing away from Jack. His back visibly tenses and he can nearly hear his mismatched eyes rolling with exasperation.

“Yeah I hear you. Where to?”

“Your pet vault huntress has tracked another Vault here on Pandora…” Rhys must have heard about it despite Jack’s attempts at intercepting the message before it reached the CEO, but there’s only so far his clearance goes. “... and I want it.”

It finally prompts Rhys to sit up, still nude and with body littered with bright marks Jack has left there an hour ago. There is a fed up sigh escaping him, flesh hand coming up to comb through his ruffled hair.

“No. You are not going. Atlas needs you here.” It’s not a plea, it’s a command and by god Jack hates being ordered around. “Let Fiona deal with it.”

“I am not asking for your permission.” He hisses, fists curling and a spark of anger begins burning in his chest.

“Denied regardless. Jack… listen, I asked you so many times not to do anything stupid. And here you are trying to be stupid. There is nothing in those Vaults worth risking what you have here.” His voice drops to something softer and Jack itches to slam his fist into that stupid mouth. He begs to differ, there -has- to be something worth risking their limited time, after all the last Vault spat out a means to bring him back so there is no saying he won’t find something, anything of equal value. He’s far from agreeing to what fate has in store for him, ready to go down kicking and screaming like he always did.

“Fuck you Rhysie. Sincerely, -fuck you-. You can’t keep me from going.” This is the first time in a long time that Rhys has denied him something he oh so desperately wanted and he’s not taking it well. But then again, Jack knows he’s right, there is no other way short of slapping a literal leash and collar on his neck to stop him. Except there apparently is another way, a low whoosh followed with a click announcing that the door leading to the bedroom has been put on lockdown. His head snaps, burning stare fixed on Rhys’ smug expression, the light of his holo display hovering over his open palm reflecting in mismatched eyes.

“What? I too can be petty when I want to.”

“Think that’s gonna stop me for long?” He snorts, already springing to his feet and running over a list of codes which could help him hack through the security, discarding those which did not work out last time. All he needs is a pad so he can plug into the systems.

“Long enough…” He can hear rustling behind him and a hand coming up to rest over his shoulder gives a light squeeze. “...as much as I would personally hate for you to go there are other reasons. I ...uhh… might have struck a very tentative, at best, deal with other Vault hunters. Let me tell you, they weren’t happy that you are coming back. So in exchange for some funds and a free hand to do what they do best you are not to leave Atlas territory.” The hand falls limply at Rhys’ side and he seems to shrink slightly, naked and vulnerable “Give it a rest Jack, Atlas is expanding, if you play your cards right in a couple of years whole Pandora will be yours, and then you can go wherever you damn please. Seize Elpis, conquer the world, hunt Vaults I don’t give a shit. But -stay- in line for now.” He doesn’t want to stay in line and he won’t. Screw the deal and screw Rhys’ pathetic attempts at peace. He’s been stabbed in the back more than enough to know that you just don’t -deal- with bandits. There is murder in his eyes as he turns around, bolting forward to topple the both of them over, hands coming up to wrap around the other’s throat. Jack doesn’t take kindly to any restrictions forced upon him and right now he needs an outlet for the anger bubbling beneath his skin.

“I don’t have -a couple of years-. I’m going now.” His fingers twitch, tightening their hold and the impassive look Rhys is giving him, fans the embers burning in his chest into a full-blown torrent of fire. Rhys could at least have the decency to struggle against hands strangling him. But he doesn’t and everything in Jack is screaming at him to let go before it’s too late. Those desperate yells are however consumed by that other side of him, something that has lain dormant, gathering its strength and now that something urges him deeper into the madness. If he can’t have Rhys to himself forever then he’ll be the one to take his life, with his own two hands, before karma snatches him from his grasp. Lanky legs twitch and he can see Rhys fighting back against his flight or fight instincts, flush spreading over his face and chest, lips swollen and eyes refusing to roll back. He looks pretty like that, Jack idly thinks to himself, so sure of himself that it’s borderline cocky, refusing to give in and staring back with defiant eyes. It almost makes his heart twinge when the stare is hidden behind eyelids falling shut, long eyelashes casting shadows over high cheekbones. The thrill of the situation makes his heart kick into an overdrive and Jack huffs nostrils flaring as he’s torn between taking in the sight and investigating what is wrong, loud pounding in his ears drowning out everything around him. Catching movement from the corner of his eye, he can see mechanical hand struggling to reach up but before cold metal fingers can brush over his cheekbone the artificial limb drops limply to a side and finally, noting real concern in Rhys’ suddenly alert eyes makes him snap out of his murderous state. A quick glance over his shoulder confirms that the hiss came from the once again open door and as he leans down, forehead now pressed against Rhys’ his fingers relent, the chokehold turning into a simple press against the frantically beating pulse. 

“Rhysie… don’t get in my way of me saving you baby.” Jack doesn’t dare to meet the spiteful stare fixed on him, his voice rough with strain, but not as rough as Rhys’ when he speaks again, breath wheezing into his lungs through bruised throat.

“I am not yours to save.” 

As he leaves, he can see Rhys slowly getting up, prosthetic arm lifelessly dragged across the floor, flushed, pissed off and half hard.

Jack vows to see this at least one more time in his life, backpack slung over his back and purpose to his step. 

-II-

It was only a matter of time for things to go completely south. It always is, the only variable being the exact number of days separating one fuck up from another. And this time the fuck up comes in the form of growled words and hands against his throat and Rhys can barely find it in himself to struggle against it. Barely, and only when the pressure becomes too much, madness swallowing the other man completely does Rhys bother to fight him off. Mechanical fingers curl into a fist and he sure as hell isn’t going to pull back the right hook he is about to pack except his arm moves in slow motion, gears grinding as panic begins to build inside of him. It only makes it about halfway through before power goes completely off and he curses, jamming signal shut down and the door clicks open. At the very least it serves to bring the other man back to his senses.

Only once Jack is gone, Rhys’ hissed words chasing him, does he manage to fully sit up, the annoying dead weight at his side slowing his down. It’s hard not to blame himself, Jack going rogue indirectly because of him, meaning more or less well and trying to help but Rhys doesn’t need it. Doesn’t want it because basically, it boils down to more babysitting than he was planning on doing. Head dropping back he runs his hand over his face instead of smacking himself like he wishes to do. God but he was blind, thinking with his dick instead of his brain and missing the telltale signs of Jack giving into another obsession. Partly because he was being the center of this obsession. He thought he had Jack under control but if he doesn’t come back soon enough, and he won’t, running of on a stupid goose chase, and, on top of that, if he comes empty handed, and he will, Yvette’s grim prediction is bound to come true. With a sigh he calls up August’s contact, a couple of tense seconds passing before the other man answers.

“What’s up -pumpkin-?” Rhys suspects his friends will have this idiotic nickname written over his grave. He swallows hard, battling away annoyance and misery threatening to colour his words.

“Get the team to start tracking Jack’s signal, we’ve got a runner.”

“Shit. Boss, he went FUBAR?”

“Not yet.”

“That shithead broke your heart we gonna terminate his, just say the word.” August is entirely too eager and Rhys can almost see him palming the panic button.

“Easy there. Do not terminate anything, he’s still the XO but I want people running project Odysseus to be on high alert and proceed with the first stage, we might get a chance to do some field testing. Will I find you in the capital?” At least one good thing will come out Jack going awol since apparently there is no force in the universe able to make this dumb, stubborn man stay put. 

“Yeah boss, I’ll see ya there.”

Rhys quietly wishes Jack trips and breaks his stupid face when the device encompassing his heart shifts modes. He sincerely, -sincerely- hopes it hurts.


	2. Hell is what you make it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems like the whole world is out to get him, eh?

-Rhys-

It takes him a longer while to get dressed, most of his clothes having traces of Jack all over them and he hates it. He hates the man too. Not that his, what Rhys like to call, betrayal is a surprise but he so naively had hoped to talk some sense into him and if not talk then at least pummel it into his thick skull. A year nearly passed since he got him back, up and running and making a space for himself in Rhys’ life. He thinks they had a good rapport going on, despite never giving name to what has begun building between them, simply existing on the same plane, tangled into each other and working out something mutually beneficial. And hell, he was happy with things as they were, giddy the first time Jack passed out in his bed as he usually did but not bothering to kick him out for once. Even more giddy when it grew to be something happening night by night, Jack actually asking him to stay when the force of habit would have him grabbing his things and trying to escape to his work room. 

He sighs, taking the time to sit by his desk, intricate tools pulled out of a box as he pops the side panel of his artificial arm open. By now he knows how to replace the ever failing power source himself, protective vials containing eridium samples stashed in the side drawer and he deftly replaces the dimmed one with a brand new glowing piece, metal casing clicking in place, a surge of power making his fingers twitch as it begins to course through the wires. It’s not that he hasn’t the faintest idea as to what is causing these power shortages, in fact he knows quite well and that makes him grit his teeth, annoyed beyond reason but that’s good, annoyance is better than the uncertainty and sadness tugging at the strings of his heart. 

-II-

Only once he’s sat behind the steering wheel, forehead methodically thumped against it does he let the sorrow sweep over him. There are tears which he refuses to let spill prickling at his eyes but he decides to chalk it up to the smoke curling from the abandoned cigarette held in his hand and god his car is going to stink so bad but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. There is a headache beginning to build at the back of his head, thanks to what he’s doing right now but also thanks to what he’s feeling. He gives himself a few more minutes to finish mopping before he jams the keys in and starts the engine, calling up Fiona’s contact at the same time. He’d rather call Vaughn so he could vent and pour his frustration over at his friend but there are other more pressing matters needing to be dealt with first.

“Rhys? This is about Jack, am I right?”

“This is about Jack, you are right.” As he suspected, she knew about it all along. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He can nearly see her furrowing her brows as she keeps mulling over her answer. “Be straight with me, I’m not in the mood.”

“He… I can’t believe I’m going to say it, but he means well. We want to help, and his idea is better than just watching you do nothing.”

“Please, don’t be stupid, I haven’t exactly been sitting idly and waiting for the end to come. But if I say I’ve done all I could I mean it.” As he rolls out of the city’s suburbs his hand angrily nudges the gear stick and he steps on the gas pedal with unnecessary force, vehicle bolting forward. “God you all are making this so fucking -hard-.” He asked Jack not to show his pity and yet he did exactly that and Rhys is furious that Fiona let herself be talked into joining him. He’d rather have them all pretend that nothing wrong was happening.

“That’s not fair, stop being so stupidly egoistic. You would have done exactly the same thing in our place.” That stings because it’s true even though Rhys doesn’t want to admit it. “And you did. For Gortys. Remember?”

“All I wanted was to be happy even if it’s going to be fleeting, is that so much to ask for?” His voice breaks and he hates that out of all people it’s Fiona who gets to hear him like that. Only Jack would be marginally worse.

“Rhys you utter asshole…” She was never good at taking his bullshit and he thinks she hates hearing him like that too. “...you are going to be so, so sorry when we come back and fix you. I am going to personally punch you in the neck as many times as it will take to have you admit it.”

“Charming as ever Fi.” The sarcasm is palpable “At least promise to keep an eye on him… He’s uh… worth his weight in money.” Even though it’s true, it doesn’t sound convincing even to him and Fiona meets that with an ugly snort.

“I’ll bring him back in one piece, pumpkin.” It hurts more than it annoys him and he hangs up without another word. Out of spite and just to let her know he’s angry. 

He’s worried sick about all of them, as he suspects she will bring the rest of her team with her, they are essentially putting themselves in danger by hauling Jack with them. As if Vaults weren’t dangerous enough on their own. Deciding to postpone his call to Vaughn he cuts through the wasteland in complete silence, focused on the road ahead of him.

-II-

Getting to Wysteria can take a couple of hours at best but with the way he’s angrily toeing the gas he’s halfway through in about two hours when something on the side of the road catches his attention. A lone vehicle and two people bustling about, one of them pulling back and frantically waving as they spot him. He has a half a mind to just leave them, too busy with his own problems but it reminds him of that douchebag whom, by the way, he hasn’t hung by his balls yet, the same one who sped by his busted car a couple of months ago. Pulling up, he turns the engine off and scrambles out of the car, dirt and small rocks crunching under the heel of his boot. The sun is high, heat pouring directly on top of him and no shadow to hide in within miles, his sunglasses doing little to help with the brightness making his headache even worse. There is smoke billowing from under the hood and the stench makes him scrunch his nose as he crosses the distance between him and the strangers. They can’t see it but he has his fingers curled over the handle of his gun, anxiously thumbing the safety. A girl, fairly young, in her late teens he suspects and a middle aged man, grease streaked over the bridge of his nose, both dressed fairly well but far from fancy, nod in his direction. He greets them with a wary smile, watching the stranger take a step forward, positioning himself between Rhys and the girl, his daughter or close relative most likely. With a sigh, he uncurls his fingers, both hands now stuffed into his pockets as he keeps his posture relaxed and non-threatening, deeming the two to be mostly harmless.

“Hey. What got you two stranded out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“Damn crap suddenly just gave up. Think it’s something with the suspension. Useless Atlas shit.” Rhys skims his eyes over the vehicle recognizing an old model they quickly pulled back from production due to it generating little to no interest. This shit is positively ancient by his standards. It’s hard these days to come across replacement parts of a redundant model but at least he remembers reading over the files some time ago and he may have an inkling as to what can be causing the problem. The only thing that is off is the smoke, it shouldn’t be there if it’s the suspension that is damaged. 

“Heh, I guess I owe you some help then, hmm?” He’s already on the move, taking of his jacket and setting it on top of the car as he rolls his sleeves up. 

“Oh… right, sorry sir didn’t notice…thank you I guess.” Well, now it’s hard not to notice the telltale colours and the logo on his sleeve as well as the gun holstered at his side. The girl brings him a tool kit, hope and expectation in her eyes.

“Don’t worry kiddo, I’m gonna fix it.” He cringes internally at the slip of his tongue but covers that with a half-hearted smile, digging through the box to grab the necessary tools.

Lifting the hood he ducks under it to find the source of the smoke, the heat of the sun making him sweat and he’s glad for something to take his mind off of his own problems even if it’s just for a few moments. The engines are still hot to the touch, meaning that the unfortunate duo wasn’t stranded for a long time and he activates his echo eye to scan the insides. 

“Hey, can you pass me the wrench?” Something seems to be off because he still can’t find the exact damage done to the machinery and he extends his hand, motioning for one of them to pass him the tool, eyes focused on the thinning out stream of smoke. 

Instead of in his open palm, the wrench lands against the back of his head, vision blurring and he stumbles, spinning on his heel to face his attacker only to receive another hit, this time to the side of his head. Why oh why is it always the head. Rhys snarls, tumbling to the ground and trying to reach for his gun which is promptly kicked from his grasp as the man, the very man he was trying to help, lands on him, pinning him to the ground. The iris of his artificial eye narrows, snapping a picture of his attacker and the landscape, mechanical fingers curling to prompt a response from the long range communication system and he broadcasts a distress signal. He can only hope it reached it’s destination as the previously unthreatening girl joins in on the fight, driving a knife through his open palm, static crackling as the wires are severed.

“Fuck! I just fixed it!” And just what the fuck is these guys problem? He bucks wildly, knowing another well placed hit will knock him out cold, his vision already swimming as his previously manageable headache begins turning into a head-splitting pain.

“You are Rhys right? I’m a big fan, ‘ve been meaning to get to know you personally asshole.” The man spits in his face and then comes the last blow, his teeth rattling, lights finally going out.

-II-

It’s not until much later that he wakes up, the heavy fog of sedatives slowly lifting as he blinks taking in his surroundings. His arm is missing, the flesh one shackled to the table he’s sat by, propped up with a single strap keeping him chained to the chair. Testing the length of the confines he discovers that the chain is just long enough to allow him to reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose, familiar gesture bringing small relief to the pounding in his head. He’s not alone in the room, the girl and her father bowed over a table in the far off end of the room, or maybe a large hall of a warehouse.

“Hey! The hell you two want? If it’s ransome just let me know how much it is and let's get this over with!” They are too well equipped and dressed to be common bandits and he figures they probably aren’t working alone, the kidnapping too well organized.

Some more yells later the girl snaps, crossing the distance in long strides and there is a slap across his face, light enough that it doesn’t even make him budge. God but he hates dealing with moody teenagers. She’s clearly pissed off and grabbing a gun now holstered at her thigh she smacks him once again, with the butt of the pistol and this time it actually hurts, blood pooling in his mouth as his cheek gets caught against his teeth.

“Shut up you piece of trash.” When she aims at his face and the barrel quivers, he knows it’s the first time she’s doing this. “I’ve lost my mother to your greed.” Tilting his head, Rhys rakes his scrambled brain in search of any clues. He doesn’t tend to leave loose ends, for the exact purpose of not wanting to end up in situations like this. “You don’t remember? Cathy Powell. Assumed K.I.A. a year ago. Top of medical staff. Working for you.” Oh. Ever professional, smart and mouthy Cathy. She worked on bringing Jack back. She knew what she was getting into. And now she lays buried under the rubble of the destroyed med facility. It might have been Jack to launch the explosion but it was on Rhys, whether he liked it or not. His head droops, shoulders hunching. Fuck, he didn’t know she had family, never spoke of them. Probably in fear of Rhys doing exactly what he would do if he knew about that, these two should have been disposed of long time ago. They should have been dead but Cathy was smart and saw through him. It doesn’t make him feel anything less guilty though. 

“Lower your gun child, there’s a line waiting to pull the trigger and it’s not your place.” The previously silent man comes closer, setting a hand over the girl’s shoulder. 

“I… for what it’s worth I am sorry about your mother and your wife…” His words are genuine, tinted with regret, both at their sorry lot and his own slip.

“We don’t want your sorry, you can roll it up and shove it up your ass.” There is a snarl coming from his oppressor as the girl leaves, and it’s followed with a quizzical look from Rhys. “And for the record, I did not know that woman. Nor do I really know the girl.” He worries at his lower lip, having misjudged the situation once again as he thought they were a family but apparently he was wrong and he desperately tries to piece everything together. Did the two just happened to band together to enact their revenge? 

“I’ve lost everything I loved and cherished when you crashed Helios.” There is that mad glint of lunacy in the man’s eyes and by god, this just keeps getting worse and worse. He thought those who did not agree with the Children of Helios were accounted for and quietly dealt with by -his- men long time ago. Have all the loose ends he had missed decided to have a spiteful reunion today? Of all the possible days today was positively the worst.

He’s not sorry about -this- at the very least, pissed off and ready to give the man a piece of his mind when the door clicks open and newcomers spill into the room. Bodyguards mostly, amongst the flock walks a sharp dressed man, slowly balding and with thin lips pulled into a tight line. He’s holding a stack of papers with a familiar logo. Dahl. Oh for fuck’s sake is everyone on whose toes he might have stepped here? It turns out that the answer is yes as he spots a group of ragtags hanging out at the back of the group. Ragtags armed to the teeth and the very same ragtags he paid to stay out of his hair. The rogue Vault hunters led by no one else but Lilith. 

“Fun-fucking-tastic. Did I win the douchebag lottery or what?” His eyes scan the crowd as he makes a mental bucket list of how he’s going to deal with each and every one of them. The Dahl representative pulls a chair to sit across from Rhys, papers laid out before him. He knows the rival company has been… dissatisfied to say the least with the rapid progress he’s been making but he never suspected they would stoop so low.

“Atlas. First you’ll sign those documents, it’s nothing too big, we want you pulling back on some of the deals. Weapons mostly. And then...”

“Talk to my PA about this if you need an in-detail explanation of how you can kindly fuck off.” Rhys leans back, sitting a little bit more comfortably, ankle crossed over his knee and he shoots a nasty smirk at the other business man. It helps, pretending that he’s still in charge, a fake boost to his confidence.

“You -sign- and then, I can promise I will try to talk the rest of the people in this room out of killing you right away.” Dahl grows visibly uncomfortable at the nonchalant display, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. If he wasn’t so pissed off with Jack, he would have quietly thanked him for letting Rhys pick up on his dumb bravado and unwavering poise. Made-up confidence can get you far in life if you know how to use it. 

“Well then, it’s not your lucky day then. I don’t have executive powers anymore. You’ll have to talk to Handsome Jack.” Rhys shrugs, at least with his good shoulder, waiting for the panicked reaction bringing up this name would usually spark. There is none and his brows furrow.

“I beg to disagree, it seems like it -is- my lucky day since it turns out both my humble self and the vault hunters are after the same man.” The pen clicks as the other man locks it, no need for it anymore as there will be no signing done today. “I’ll just have to wait till we get him sat in the very same spot in which you are now.” This loser’s cocksure attitude and smugness as well as a twinge of real panic building in Rhys’ stomach at the possible threat have him lunging forward, quick as a lightning and powered by pure hatred as he grabs that moron by what little remained of his hair and slams his head into the table. He doesn’t get the time to revel in the satisfying sound of a nose being crushed as someone delivers a mean blow to his jaw, head snapping and he can feel one of canines coming loose before light once again fades away. 

-II-

They have just moved out, in a smaller force than what he anticipated and currently he and Fiona are bowed over a display of a map, their legs hanging over the edge of the caravan’s roof top. Despite obvious dislike they hold for each other, the common goal has brought them closer and he can see just how insanely obsessed she is with finding the vault. Jack shares the sentiment, few things as thrilling as those split second moments before you enter the sub dimension of a vault. Not to mention the reward. A part of him is jealous, Handsome Jack has opened a vault, more than one, and got his hands on the forbidden knowledge. So did Rhys and Fiona despite their reluctance to share their findings. But he, -Jack-, didn’t, maybe he has fantom memories of the searing pain and some vague-ass visions that make little sense but none of those are really his. He chances a guess that his original didn’t want to risk losing valuable data, cutting out some of the crucial info and he can only begrudgingly agree with this decision, given that Nakayama’s drive did indeed fall into wrong hands. Soft and gentle hands that can pack a nasty punch but wrong regardless. 

His musing is interrupted with a ping of his comm, surprise making his eyebrows shoot up. He specified with his PA that he doesn’t want to be interrupted and to only have the most important calls forwarded. And in case it’s Rhys calling to continue his nagging Jack already has a few choice words to tell him prepared in advance.

-”Congratulation on your promotion”- The feminine voice sounds distinctly metallic, Atlas’ mainframe AI and the words are followed with a sound of a synthetic fanfare -”You have been elected the new CEO!”- She sounds so fake upbeat that Jack feels like puking, his heart dropping as the words finally register within his brain.

There is a sound of a sharp inhale to his side and the holo projector Fiona has been holding tumbles to the ground below them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I'll find it in me to bother going over the text more than once to fix typos and other stuff. This is not today however.


	3. Discord and rhyme

-Jack-

Driving off he did not bother to take even a fleeting glance at the building he was leaving behind, eyes focused on the road ahead. He had a meeting coming up in a couple of hours and he would really hate to miss it, given that the women waiting for him weren’t known for their patience. In order to get to the small, off-site bar they had set up the meeting at, Jack needed to cross nearly the whole spread of Atlas’ territory, at one point switching to a train taking him nearly to the end of it’s tracks, where a car he had arranged for has been patiently waiting. Taking a train was still the fastest way to move from one end of civilization to the other and he knew that it was just Rhys’ silly love for cars and stubbornness that had him usually wasting an extra hour or more to get to his destination. But it also would leave you with too much free time to think and Jack tried his damn hardest to occupy his thoughts with everything but the man he had left alone, working out all the possible solutions to any problems that may come up on his little vault hunting trip. The sun had nearly set as he finally strolled into a deranged establishment, eyes taking a sweep until they settled on a table far to the left, occupied by two women and two bots. Letting his trademark grin curl his lips, Jack quickly shortened the distance and taking a seat across the group he was the first one to speak.

“Athena! Fiona.” They only gave curt nods, Athena turning her head to pointedly stare at anything but Jack. Rude. But before he got to express his displeasure, something else caught his eye. “You must be Gortys right?” The small bot perked up considerably, dropping from her spot next to Athena and rolled closer to investigate the man addressing her.

“And you must be Jack! Fiona told me all about you.” Her voice was excited. In fact everything about her screamed ‘excitement’. “She says you are a baaaad man.” And to stress her words she gave a poke to his knee, friendly or not it was hard to tell but Jack still swept down to grab her and settle the bouncy ball in his lap.

“I try very hard to maintain this image.” His voice was tinged with something playful, a wink following his statement as he kept inspecting the little bot. “Old Atlas sure knew how to build their robots.” He had to give it to her, the constant buzz surrounding her was anything but annoying, unlike some other robots he had the questionable pleasure of working with. “If CL4P-TPs turned out the way you are I wouldn’t have had to terminate the whole line!” The slightly maniacal chuckle he let had her pulling a sad face and the three fingered hand coming to flick him on the nose sent a nasty current of electricity sparking through his systems. He swore, letting go of the bot and bringing his own hands to the sting blooming from the tip of his nose.

“Fiona also said I should shock you whenever you make me uncomfortable. Sorry for that!” She did not sound apologetic in the least, nor did Fiona’s laughter and he growled in their general direction. Stupid thing. He tried to kick the now annoying bot but was stopped when the last participant of their little get-together brought a metal fist down against the table, the impact making their cups rattle.

“Cease and desist.” The voice was distinctly metallic and thanks to Rhys’ explanations regarding what followed the fall of Helios he could figure out why exactly it sounded familiar.

“Loader bot. Your lot has gotten mouthy in daddy’s absence, huh?” The snark in his words was obvious as he regarded his old endoskeleton now attached to the sad remains of once staple example of Hyperion’s technological superiority. 

“So had you. Please return to your seat” The tone was flat and uninterested and drove Jack mad, previous annoyance shifting to something more on the murderous aspect of his personality as only now did he notice that he had sprung to his feet.

“Listen here you stupid, short-circuited, glorified trash can, I won’t stand for being ordered about by some glitches in a faulty programming.” The unnerving calmness and a general lack of regard for Handsome Jack’s supremacy Rhys and his pack of lousy friends kept displaying always kept goading him into bouts of anger.

“Need you be reminded that you are a glitch yourself? The only difference between us is the squishy meat shield you wear. If you consider yourself a person, I ask you to treat us with the same respect.” 

“Don’t bother LB, he doesn’t treat -anyone- with respect.” Athena’s words were hissed and Jack had to wonder where all that animosity came from. Well, actually he knew, a figure of speech really but after all this time she could probably let go of the hate, right? Apparently not since she kept on scowling, although it was always hard to tell with her and her default resting bitch face. 

“You wound my heart.”

“If only you had one.” He did have one, but the off-handed quip had him wondering if Rhys ever told these two what exactly powered his body. 

It took some more snapping at each other before Fiona’s patience ran out, a barked order to shut their mouths finally had Jack return to his seat, sulking and partly regretting his decision to come. Regardless, he actively kept partaking in the discussion on how they were going to handle the situation, his own, if somewhat second-hand, experience thankfully taken into consideration. The plan was to roll out immediately, with Loader Bot as their designated driver as the rest of the group would nap in the living compartment of the caravan. He had some vague memories of watching Rhys awkwardly sprawled and snoring on the narrow couch and Jack wasn’t particularly looking forward to the discomfort, too accustomed to a soft bed these days. But he wasn’t going to complain, okay, maybe -a little bit-, just not enough to get himself kicked out of the moving vehicle.

Agreeing to meet them in the parking lot, Jack took one last detour, walking into a shabby bathroom to nab the last bit of questionable luxury since, if his memory wasn’t failing him, the caravan wasn’t equipped with anything remotely toilet like. And even if it was, nothing could really beat pissing with your feet firmly planted against sweet, unmoving ground. Done and zipped back into his pants, he checked for the last time his comm, a curt message from his PA that August had been trying to contact him completely ignored as he headed back.

The caravan was still decked in the infamous Scooter’s special paintjob, obnoxious and as far from discreet as possible. In the distance, he could see the rest of the group packing in the supplies, or in fact, as he noticed after taking a second glance, all of them except for one person.

“Are we still waiting for Athena?” It was met with a stern glare from the only other human and an annoyed shrug.

“She got a call from someone and said she won’t be joining us after all.” 

“-Important- Vault hunter business she said. And Fiona is mad she wasn’t included.” Gortys helpfully chirped, the frown on Fiona’s forehead only deepening. That was strange, Athena wasn’t the one to easily bail out on a deal but at least it meant one less claim to the treasure.

-II-

The cheerful voice dissipates with a crack and Jack is left staring blindly into the distance.

“What now mister CEO?” He can’t bring himself to look at his companion, thoughts frantically swirling in his head. “You still dead set on chasing after the hunch we have on the vault or do we turn back?”

“You think…?” His voice is tiny, uncertain and he feels stupidly lost, ground suddenly swept from underneath his feet.

“Yeah. I think.” This time it’s Fiona who refuses to meet his eyes, slowly getting up and fixing her gaze on the horizon. “I think… I think Rhys just got himself into another dumb situation.” She sounds uncertain, but tries to soldier through, putting on a mask of hopefulness. It doesn’t fool Jack, he knows everything there is to know about wearing masks and yet it doesn’t stop a sliver of hope from blooming in his chest. “I refuse to believe this is it.” So does Jack.

“You’re right. Let’s head back, Atlas must be a right mess right now.”

“We’ll give you a lift to the train station.”

“And then?” It’s not very typical for him to follow others’ plans but since he doesn’t have any better ideas he may just as well roll with it.

“And then you go to the Capital to figure out what has happened and we try to catch up with Athena.”

“You think…?”

“Yes I do!” She grows exasperate with his silly questions, huffing in annoyance and he thinks he might be a little bit in love with her, women bossing him around have always been his weakness. “Important Vault hunter business my ass, no wonder they didn’t want me to come.” He also thinks he may be a little bit in love with her because since the very start she wanted to go through with his idea of saving Rhys and now she still tries to keep her promise. “Stop with the starry-eyes, unlike Rhys, I have standards.” So he might have been staring. But only a little bit. “And I’m spoken for. Come on, let’s get moving, that moron isn’t going to save himself.”

-II-

The ride back is pure hell, long hours stretching mercilessly but at the very least he doesn’t have to fight off the intrusive thoughts and worry. Simply because that the chaos that ensued in the Atlas’ HQ has him constantly occupied, his and Rhys’ PA constantly on call with him and nagging him with a milion miniscule details. Foxglove needs a new major. Some projects need approval. Moving a large force of men he wants to have already waiting for him requires his clearance. Pissed off August needs to chill and Jack needs a goddamn drink to calm his nerves. 

Dawn begins to break as he finally rushes into the main facility, eyes bloodshot and hair a mess, reports streaming in into the feed of his echo pad. By now they have located Rhys’ abandoned car on the side of a highway and uncovered the mysterious identity of a man whose snapped photo came with the distress signal. He turns out to be a nobody, ex-Hyperion, low level R&D worker, someone who could potentially still be harbouring a grudge against the man who brought Helios down given that he has lost his parents and both partners in the crash. The team of analysts assigned to the task of tracking the ex-CEO eventually comes to a conclusion that he still has to be somewhere out there, abduction being the most likely cause. Despite Sasha and August forcing their friend to upgrade his cybernetics with a backup tracking system after his unfortunate trek across the Pandoran desert there are no blips on the map and that probably means they aren’t dealing with a ruffian seeking simple revenge but a professional. Someone who would know how to jam the signal and someone who probably knew it would be broadcasted, regardless of it not being linked in any way to Rhys’ vitals but set to trigger Jack’s promotion in case it failed. Which also means that the guy, David Holtz if his files are to be believed, had had to have an accomplice. Someone on the inside and the thought sends Jack reeling as he frantically keeps on interrogating random people who oh so unfortunately happen to find themselves in his way. It’s not only the people who are falling apart, giving into Jack’s madness but also the HQ itself, power failures becoming a regular occurrences and eventually, August manages to drag him, nearly kicking and screaming, to the med ward, a group of unfamiliar lab coats swarming them. Jack gets a shot of ‘calm the fuck down’, the chief of security reasoning with him that people can’t work with him constantly looming over them and threatening to feed them their own brains if they don’t do -something-. As his hammering heart slows down to a lazy rhythm and the medical staff take him to the exam room to run some unimportant statistics, Jack idly wonders if Fiona has managed to learn something new. He hasn’t heard from her since they left him at the station and that has him worried, his calls not going through every time he would try to reach her. One of the nurses hooked up something to the port at the base of his neck and the readout of his heartrate is now displayed on one of the monitors. He can’t even bother to worry that maybe that’s not a good thing, after all Rhys went to great lengths to hide the details of his return but the stress and the meds are beginning to take their toll and his concern as well as the muffled voices talking about something he can vaguely pick up, project oblivious or odysseus he can’t discern, are all swept away once sleep takes over him.

-II-

He hadn’t slept … well, let’s just say the last time he slept he was snugly tucked into the crook of Rhys’ arm and that was well over two days ago, so the waking up comes as the second hardest thing in the morning. They must have moved him somewhere more familiar, as his eyes take in the view of the rarely used apartment in the capital where he or Rhys would occasionally pass out, too tired to head back to their respective places. Or in most cases back to Rhys’ anyway. 

He stays curled under the comforter for a little while, fooling himself into believing that the other man is just around the corner, shoveling ungodly amounts of his stupid cereal into his mouth and hastily fixing the cuffs of his dress shirt. Jack entertains himself for a couple more minutes with the idea of crawling out of the bed and helping him with the unruly shirt only to tear it a moment later. The memory of teeth against his throat and the warm body pressed into him fuels his little fantasy, hand sneaking down the front of his pants. The unmistakable scent lingering on the pillow into which he pushes his face and imagination running wild have him making a quick work of the task at hand, hardly bothered to muffle his groan as he comes. 

But the reality isn’t as forgiving as his fantasies and eventually he drags himself up, dropping dirty clothes and fishing out a fresh set out of the closet. A message from one of Rhys’ friends, the uh… vertically challenged one, Jack can never remember his name, his contact saved as ‘Vogue’, pops up, and it says that he’s on his way and that he has something for Jack.

Vogue finds him half-heartedly stirring chocolate sludge that has gathered on the bottom of the bowl, most of the cereals forcefully shoved down his throat as he gags both on the unreasonable sweetness as well as his own guilt. But there is nothing else to eat and his morning wouldn’t be complete without a dirty bowl and spoon in the sink. He only acknowledges the other man when a cup is pushed towards him, steaming coffee finally bringing him back to a little bit more awake state. 

“Alright Vogue. Show me what you’ve got.”

“It’s Vaughn. Don’t make me regret not putting salt in your drink.” Jack only scoffs, god but some people can be so petty, would you believe that? However, his attention shifts to a small package currently placed before him. It has ‘HJ’ scribbled over it but beside that there is nothing to identify it in any way. “This came through this morning. The general rule is that the CEO doesn’t accept weird gifts from unknown sources but… the courier said it’s from Rhys.” He knows about the rule, after all he came up with it back in the day, too annoyed with his obsessive fans but also wary of the competition and apparently it must have been transferred to Atlas as well. 

“Where are they now?” He’d very much like to meet that unfortunate soul in person. Preferably armed with a knife and some pinchers. 

“Swallowed something before we could do anything. Dead but we have a team examining the body. 

“That’s a big deal if that Holtz has people dying for his cause. Any idea what’s inside the package Vogue?” He ignores the annoyed huff, reaching over the counter to grab a knife and carefully begins to cut through the string wrapped around the box.

“All we know is that it’s nothing dangerous, bio testes did not show any hazard, nor did the metal detector pick on any anomalies so we are chancing a guess it’s some organic matter. If… if it really is from Rhys I guess you should have the privacy to open it.” Jack only hums in response but upon peeling the wrapping he loudly sucks the breath in. The other man turns a vivid shade of green, hand clasped over his open mouth and eyes fixed on the content of package. 

Jack acts before thoughts can catch up to him, flinging the box across the room and following it with a spiteful yell.

“FUCK!”

-II-

When Rhys finally cracks his eyes open there is blissful half-darkness surrounding him and as he lets his eyes adjust he begins taking stock of damage done to his body. His artificial arm has been removed, quite professionally unplugged instead of being wrangled from it’s socket or hacked off so that’s one good thing. And the only one as his hand moves to the back of his head, hiss following the spike of pain as he prods one of the goose eggs he’s sporting, caked blood rough against the pads of his fingers. The side of his face also hurts like shit, tongue flicking over the tender gum confirming that he indeed has lost a tooth but that’s about it, his echo eye is still working and upon scanning the room he discovers that this is an old Atlas facility. Oh the irony, but at least they are challenging him on his turf, what with him having raided countless such places to gain the much needed leverage as he set off to rebuild the company. It’s a full day as the time display of his eye tells him before anyone bothers to pay any attention to him. He gets a bottle of water, downing it as he follows a tall, nondescript man, leading him deeper into the building and away from, what turns out to be a cell. They are back in the interrogation room and he only slightly protests as he’s chained back to the chair. He, however protests a little bit more violently when a sharp blade cuts through the flesh and digs between the bones, cartilage parting and giving way to cold metal.


	4. Scorch my soul and burn the bridges

-Rhys-

They are back in the interrogation room and he only slightly protests as he’s chained back to the chair, giving a weak struggle just because he can and not because he means it. Even if he broke free what could he do, make a break for it, not very likely? There are fewer people in the room this time, Lilith and her goons crowding to the left and the ex-Hyperion lackey fumbling with something to the right, even though the Dahl representative isn’t here, some of his bodyguards can still be spotted here and there, reluctantly mingling with a couple of bandits, the remains of the free people, or how they like to call themselves these days, the Free Peepol, not that Rhys gives a single shit about their opinion. The attention of the majority of the crowd turns towards Lilith as she approaches him, fierce eyes fixed on his.

“My money wasn’t enough and you had to go after my ass?” Thanks to Fiona’s intel he had a vague idea that something was up and the other Vault hunters were conspiring behind their backs. He just thought they would rather go after Jack and despite being confident in his skills, Rhys went that extra mile to equip the other man, without his knowledge, with something that would ensure his survival. 

“You are giving yourself too much credit, I’m after a bigger fish.”

“So can I like… go? I’m not your big fish so I see no reason for you to keep me here.” Worth a shot even though he knows it’s completely useless.

“Don’t you worry, the bigger fish will fall for the bait, hook, line and sinker. Handsome Jack doesn’t like people playing with his toys silly thing.” Fishing out a knife from one of her pockets, Lilith teases the blade along his neck, prompting a snarl and a snap of his teeth. “So we are just going to wait for your knight in shining armour to come sweeping in. And then I give you to the highest bidder or the quickest shot. It’s a win-win situation for me.” 

“You are stupid to think that asshole would fall for a simple trap like this.” At least he knows what he’s dealing here with and his words are meant as much for her as they are for him. A large part of him is quietly wishing for Jack to be the smarter guy here, for not letting himself be led straight into the net and yet he knows that it’s not going to happen so he needs to act before the word reaches him, the stubborn man hopefully stranded in the middle of Pandoran desert and closely watched over by one of his best friends. 

“You, smartass, you have fallen for the most cliche of the traps there ever was.” She’s right, he isn’t even going to deny that. “So here is hoping that some of your dumb attitude has rubbed off on Jack. I’m taking it you two must be fairly close, what with him letting you keep your make-pretend position hmm?” And now she’s wrong but he isn’t going to correct her. He isn’t. 

“Get lost bitch. Atlas is, and always was mine. I ain’t nobody’s pet.” Okay, he -is- going to correct her. A tactical mistake but his ego would never forgive him for pretending to be a tool. “So you see it for yourself, Jack’s got no reasons for coming.”

“He’s right, you know?” Another voice joins the conversation and he’s surprised to see Athena, coming closer with her arms crossed over her chest and a set expression on her face. “Jack isn’t going to risk his life for someone who’s basically a dead man walking.” The other woman only quirks one of her eyebrows waiting for more explanation. “The kid you’ve got here was two steps away from death even before you got him roughed up.” 

She only shrugs in response to his burning stare and hissed words that follow Athena’s comment. 

“Thanks Athena, really appreciate your input here, at least I had a shot at making it through before.” It hurts to see her teaming up with his enemies as she has always been someone whom he trusted, if only by extending the trust he places in Fiona

“Then let me make it clear for you Atlas, you don’t have a shot regardless of what anyone could possibly say.” Lilith stalks closer again, motioning for one of her men to come closer. “Brick, if you were so kind, I need a hand here.”

The hulking man pops behind Rhys’ back, no further instructions needed as he bows over him, thick fingers wrapping around his wrist and pinning his hand to the table, fingers splayed wide apart as he tries freeing himself, panic beginning to rise. 

“Keep still, you don’t want to accidentally hurt yourself, do you little thing?” Her smile is dangerous and borderline sadistic “We need to give old man Jack a little incentive.” And with that she’s leaning closer, knife clutched in her hand as she begins chiming an old rhyme.

“Five fat sausages sizzling in a pan, the grease got hot - and one went "BANG"!” As she keeps crooning, the tip of the knife skips between his fingers, one last blow landing hard just in the space between his index and middle finger. His heart misses a beat but a quick glance confirms that he still has all five fingers. For now, because Lilith soon enough starts anew, following in a similar fashion. 

She’s down to the last sausage sizzling in a pan and Rhys is sweating somewhat fierce, taut muscles twitching with every tap of the knife when suddenly burning pain blooms, spreading outright from the base of his ring finger, Lilith finishing the rhyme with a cheerful ‘BANG’. The blade has barely broke the skin, the tip now wedged between the joints of his last knuckle and she slowly keeps applying more pressure, tilting her tool as she goes. Somehow, he had hoped that if it came to this the cut would be mercifully swift but this is so much worse, the feeling of something being somewhere it shouldn’t be and the prolonged searing pain make him see stars and he grinds his teeth, hell bent on stifling the cry building in his throat. He only lets out a distressed whimper when the blade finally reaches the hard metal of the table, Rhys staring daggers at his tormentors and immediately as the iron grip around his wrist relaxes he’s snatching his hand back, cradling it to his chest, blood quickly soaking through his shirt. Rhys can’t help but stare with wide eyes at his severed finger even as the Firehawk carefully packs it into a ziplock and nonchalantly stuffs it into her back pocket. The stump hurts like a bitch but he had his whole arm amputated and eye gouged of his free will so he refuses to let the loss faze him. What is one more cybernetic attachment. He needs a few calming breaths before he can speak, but once he does, his voice, even if rough, is cold and collected.

“I get it, the just revenge and shit. I also get why Dahl would want in on this crap. And the bandits. Hell, even those two from the crash site. But what is it in it for you to gain? You’ve killed Jack once, so why?”

“Some people just can’t be allowed to live. He may have been behaving and I don’t know if it’s because of some game, or if you are just a really good cockwarmer.” He snorts and rolls his eyes at her crude language. “Don’t give me that look, Handsome Jack doesn’t do subtle, half the Pandora knows you two were fucking.”So much for keeping his private life under wraps.” Or if you really managed to keep him on a short leash. Frankly, I don’t care either way, but the point stands, people like him do not change. Ever.” There is spite and underlying hatred to her words. “I hope you have someone else in mind to take over Atlas because all in all you did good job and with the two of you out of the picture things will hopefully turn out fine for this planet.”

“You are lying to yourself. There will always be another asshole to run the company. At least you knew me. You knew I was willing to meet you halfway.” He aims for a charming smile but it comes out as something crooked as his vision slowly begins to swim.

“If what Athena says is true that wouldn’t have lasted long anyway, would it?”

“I wasn’t going to leave Atlas in the hands of a maniacal megalomaniac. I poured a lot of money and effort into setting Jack’s record straight.”

“Did you Rhys?” The other woman finally decides to join the conversation, previously dead silent and staring off into the distance as Rhys squirmed under Lilith’s ministrations. “Last time I saw him he was off your hook doing something stupid.”

“A temporary inconvenience.” At least he can keep lying, both to them and to himself.

“All right. Enough chit-chat. Brick, get him to the station and then Holtz can have him to himself. Just remind him to try and leave this douchebag breathing.” Lilith is already on her way, tossing a few off-handed commands to the Dahl soldiers. 

He doesn’t try resisting the heavy hand at his neck dragging him towards the Quick Change station. It makes sense and they are smarter than he originally thought, in all honesty he’d do the same, create a dupe just in case something unplanned happened. At the very least he pulls a face as the scanner roams over his body in hopes of giving it a skewed image. Futile, given that the equipment was well enough designed to take a good read out even of a severed face.

-II-

They eventually drop his limp body into his cell, another tooth lost and an intricate pattern of bruises covers his body, some of the ribs busted if the pain in his side is anything to go by. Holtz was angry, hardly pulling back his punches but even Rhys, on a bad day and freshly dragged out of bed, could come with more creative torture methods. As someone who regularly got into fistfights over socks with Handsome Jack, Rhys was a hard man to impress. 

He’s left alone for the rest of the day, and for the day that follows, without food but at least with plenty of water as he huddles in the far off corner of the small room. There is a plan slowly beginning to form in his head, as sick and killer as every other plan he has ever came up with.

-II-

For the past half an hour he kept nagging the guard stationed by the door leading to his cell to come in and help him with the bandages that they have loosely wrapped around his bloodied hand and which started coming undone with all the fiddling he’s been doing. Eventually the unfortunate soul gives in, fed up with all the yammering Rhys has been doing and the guy moves closer to inspect the hand sticking through the bars. That’s all he needs, his victim finally within his grasp and aching fingers tangle into the front of a military issued shirt as he gives a good yank, the guard’s face slammed into the hard metal and before he can come back to his senses, Rhys has the, now completely undone, bandages around his neck and throat. He couldn’t snap Dahl’s neck even with all his fingers intact, maybe having a chance with all his limbs, but he’s persistent, material stretched over the bobbing adam’s apple as he waits for the flailing to cease and Rhys is quite proud of his choking expertise. Or strangulation as Jack would helpfully supply. The keys are snatched from the limp body’s belt, and a click of the mechanism as he unlocks the door to freedom follows. An escape route he doesn’t take. He hasn’t spent so much time exploring abandoned Atlas facilities to fall for choosing the easy route. Above him, a maze of quite spacy air ducts stretches and all that’s left is getting inside of them. Which turns out to be a far less easy task than he anticipated, he’s got the grid nudged to the side creating an opening through which he should easily squeeze through, his height once again coming in handy but he’s just lacking in the strength department to pull himself up and over the edge. 

His tired muscles burn like hell as he takes another running jump, bouncing off of the door and gaining some leverage with one foot against the lower level of the horizontal bars. He only manages to hook his arm over the edge, feet uselessly dangling in the air and legs kicking about wildly. It’s no use, despite a good couple of pounds he has lost with his mechanical arm his grip just isn’t strong enough. And then, suddenly there is a hand pulling him up by the scruff of his neck, someone grunting as he scrambles to get a better grip.

“Stop. Flailing. You asshole.” Wait he knows that voice! Once he’s fully dragged into the vent he lands on top of no one else but Fiona. Sweet, lovely Fiona and he could kiss her if she wasn’t trying to shove him away. Eventually he pulls back, fixing the grid back in it’s place to cover his tracks before turning to face her fully, no words for once daring to slip his lips as he just keeps staring.

“Hey! Stop that. Stop that thing with your face.” He has no idea what she means, brows pulling into an even more confused expression, lower lip jutting slightly. “Stop your face!” But he’s not doing anything! Except Fiona finally gives in into his kicked puppy expression and let’s him wrap his arm around her, the hug returned and he can finally breath a little bit easier.

“How did you get here?” 

“Tracked down Athena.” She sounds grim and he can only imagine that they did not part on best terms. “Picked up your signal and followed it. It’s weak, something is jamming long range communication so we are here on our own. Then I saw you being all pathetic and miserable. And here we are.” There is a hand coming up to pet through his hair and in the relative safety of her arms Rhys relaxes a little bit, not enough to let the events of the past few days catch up to him but enough to grow a fraction more boneless. “Come on Rhys, we have to go.”

-II-

They crawl through the ventilation system, Rhys finding it more that a little bit hard, supporting his weight on one arm and considerably slowing them down. He bumps into Fiona as she suddenly comes to a halt, his complaints shushed and he’s beckoned closer to peer through one of the grids into the room below. Below them is what he’s grown to call the torture chamber and they are nearly straight above a group of people talking in hushed voices. He needs to strain his ears to pick up individual words.

“Holtz…” That’s definitely Lilith, her bright red hair and demanding tone easily recognizable. “...are you sure you want to do it? You’ll likely die.”

The answer is inaudible but has to be positive given the nod following the man’s words.

“You do realize that while we can digistruct a new face for you there are some limitations. You can’t… create... nothing. The finger will have to go.” Silence follows her words but soon enough Holtz is on the move stiffly walking towards the center of the room where he firmly plants his right hand against the table as he passes the knife to one of the Dahl soldiers. 

Whatever Lilith wanted to say is drowned out by a blood curdling yell and Rhys winces internally at the phantom pain joining the dull sting he’s grown more or less used to. 

“The deal will go down this evening we just got confirmation. Patch him up and sprinkle some blood on him so he looks more realistic. And for fuck’s sake find our missing prisoner!” Well, that’s their cue to go back to crawling through the vents, definitely more vigorously than before taking into consideration that his escape has been discovered. 

Reaching one of the open ends of the ducts, Fiona helps him down to the ground and they huddle behind a group of cars, ears perked up and eyes wary as they scout for any danger. 

“We can’t go just yet.” He grabs her by the hem of her jacket and she turns to look at him with incredulous expression, stopped dead in her tracks in the midst of trying to get the closest car jump started. “...Fiona…” This time the miserable look he’s sending her way is involuntary. “...Jack…” He refuses to let the other man walk into the trap and with no way to contact him he’d rather lay low and scout the bandit’s camp trying to figure something out. She sighs, dropping back to a crouch and shaking her head. 

“What did I ever do to deserve this? I can’t tell which one of you is worse.” It’s only met with a semi-apologetic shrug of his arm. “Let me try to contact LB and Gortys, they should be skirting somewhere around the outer edges.”

“I’d strongly advise against it.” The strong if calm voice catches them by surprise and two sets of bewildered eyes shoot up, meeting a hard stare. Athena.

-II-

By now he has considerably calmed down, watching Vogue trying to swallow down each next wave of nausea as he rummages through the box’s content serving as a good as any focus point. Beside the severed finger, which he assumes belongs to Rhys even though it’s hard to tell with all that swollen, bruised flesh, they find a scribbled note. It essentially boils to a group of bandits, no names given but he guesses they must be led by that Holtz guy, demanding that he turns himself in in exchange for Rhys’ life. Jack sighs, finally making his mind up and raising to his full height he stretches, a few joints popping back in place.

“I’ll go. Personally I’m not a big fan of self-sacrifice but I’ll go.” The other man looks torn between being relieved and even more stressed out. He can understand it, his allegiance lies with his friend but the situation is far more complicated than simply correlating pros and cons and arriving at a clear answer. Because if you did that, then there is no reason for Jack to bother even considering making the deal.

“You won’t be going alone…” It’s almost cute but Jack doesn’t need reassurance and so he only scoffs. 

“Hell yeah I won’t be, half the Atlas’ force is coming with me.” His enthusiastic response sparks a sliver of hope in Vogue’s eyes and he’s already on the move, calling up August’s contact and barking orders left and right as he heads for the lift that will take him back down into the pit of the chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in all honesty, whatever bullshit solution to all of this i might have come up it will never be as bullshit as the megazord gortys so why do i get stressed out welp.
> 
> Also, I wanted this to be about as long as the first part but look at it, four chapters in and we're nearly at the climax ??? maybe i'll just... bullshit...some uhh more.


	5. Pieces of the people we love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If i ever get to write another instalment of this story you can bet ur sweet asses im naming it bulletporn. U can quote me on that.

-Jack-

Jack was fairly confident that he could pull this shit off. Some idiot trying to tug at the strings and stir the still water, nothing more. And so his plan included getting there, punching the guy in the face, punching Rhys in the face for being useless, punching -himself- in the face for feeling a little bit too involved and then, only then, maybe a little, private jerk off session. His cockiness however didn’t stop him from being cautious, or at least as cautious and collected as he could get, which, in Jack’s case meant a longer while devoted to meticulously strapping a gun holster to his thigh, an outdated Hyperion model for sentiment reasons, a dagger to his boot and an assault rifle of his choice slung across his back. For a good measure he stuffed one more, smaller pistol into the back of his trousers and he was good to go, one last look taken in the mirror. Damn but he was looking good, if you were to disregard the shadow of a stubble building on his jaw and the bags under his eyes he’s looking the part. Prince charming coming to the rescue and personally, Jack thought no one could wish for a more dashing saviour to sweep in and save the day. It’s the thrill of the action that does it for him, days of restless brooding already forgotten as Jack bounced down the hallway, spring to his step and a string of commands on his lips, ushering people to gear up.

-II-

It all turns out to be a waste of time as August none too gently strips him of his defences, first all three of his firearms then the knife, all the while there is a barrel of a gun uncomfortably pressing between his shoulders. In the spare few moments before they give him a shove to get going Jack mulls over what exactly has happened and how he had lost control in less than a second. He guesses it all went south when he finally realized who was really pulling the strings.

Even now he can see her, smirking at him from across the stretch of empty ground between them. 

-II-

Less than a quarter of the force followed the CEO and the chief of the security into the bandit’s compound, the rest of them positioned at a safe distance, the strike commander keeping them on high alert and ready to move in when prompted. The sun had nearly set, painting the sky bright red and Jack thought to himself that it was fairly fitting, something that would nicely complement the soon to be bathed in blood settlement. With Sasha and August at his heel he let the overconfidence take over his actions as they strolled in, a ragtag group of surprisingly well armed bandits parting to let them in. Their plan was simple. Get in, get Rhys, get out. Jack strongly advised against making the actual deal but eventually agreed to act as a bait in case they had no other way, to get close enough and just shoot the man once he got the chance, August solemnly swearing to watch his back. There was a group waiting for them, a couple of feet ahead, Holtz nowhere in sight but at least he could spot that blissful idiot just standing there, shoulders hunched and hands cuffed at his front, eyes avoiding Jack’s at all cost and looking worse for wear than he would expect. His own eyes moved to take a sweeping look, searching for Holtz but then his pace slowed down until coming to a total halt, his gaze fixed on the familiar red hair and blue tattoos sneaking up the exposed arm. Lilith. 

“Missed me?” He was certain he didn’t. “Here’s how we’re going to do that big boy. You will release any and all weapons you might be holding onto and we make the trade. Behave and we don’t shoot your boytoy. But make one wrong move and nobody walks out of it alive.” His frantic gaze shot up, following the quirk of her eyebrow to take in the soldiers, Dahl soldiers, pouring into the open space. It was instinct, something deeply rooted into his very core and something not to be easily overcome as his vision turned red, sounds drowned out and the most primal bloodlust took over him.

“You BITCH!” The gun now trained on her wasn’t there a moment ago but Jack couldn’t bring himself to care. The more rational part of him screamed, yelled and begged to lower his weapon but it too ended up drowned out as everything that was Handsome Jack in him roared demanding payback. In his anger, a distant chime of an Echo comm got lost, little attention paid to August’s words. In fact, there wasn’t anything worth paying attention to beside the blade drawing blood, pressed just above the familiar gear tattoo and the taunting tilt of Lilith’s lips. At that point it mattered not who was going to make it out alive. For all he cared, for all Handsome Jack cared, survivors were not an option. A tremor began building up, threatening to make the barrel of his gun waver, but it was not the time for hesitation, all muscles pulled taut, heart painfully thrashing about in his chest and his whole body pulled in on itself, curling inwardly in anticipation for the release, for the mad dash he was about to take and for the oncoming punches. And then a distinct sound of the safety pulled back broke the silence, freezing the blood in his veins as August dug hard metal into his back.

“Ah-ah. I’m not taking any risks with you.”

-II-

This, distinctively feels like betrayal. Jack knows because he knows betrayal like the back of his hand. He recognizes its bitter taste pooling at the back of his throat, he recognizes its stench in the arid breath of Pandoran wasteland and he certainly recognizes the shape of it tinging the reply coming to his threat.

“Don’t do this.” Jack hisses, arms obediently coming up and the tips of his fingers meet at the back of his head.

“August, that’s not what we’ve agreed on…” It’s Sasha who comes to his rescue, her voice pleading and she gives a hesitant tug to the hem of his jacket.

“Well…” He thinks August’s tone is unnecessarily aggressive. “There was another deal.” It feels like his heart is sinking but in fact it’s only ground suddenly tumbling towards his face as another forceful shove has him stumbling in his tracks. “Move you fuck!” 

For every step Rhys takes towards his friends, Jack measures his until he’s no longer counting and no longer moving, halfway through and meeting the other man on the middle ground. Jack wants to say something. ‘hey, here I am, saving you, get the champagne ready so we can celebrate victory later.’ Or maybe he wants to say something more truthful, spill his guts and say ‘hey, I’m sorry’, because he -is- sorry, not for his actions but for how things have turned out. That he wishes they had more time and that it still was a good ride. But maybe, what he wants to say the most is ‘hey, I love you’.

None of those words make it through his clenched throat because Rhys doesn’t bother slowing down, pace actually quickening the closer he gets and as he brushes past Jack, he spares a single glance, smirk curling his bloodied lips and one, thick eyebrow inches higher into a disparaging quirk.

He staggers the rest of the way half blinded, world spiralling out of control and the blunt nails digging into the palms of his clenched fists do nothing to help him feel grounded. Jack would very much like to turn his heel and go home. Good riddance to them all and a generous dash of ‘fuck ya’all’ as the voice inside of his head fills his ears with ‘i told you so’s and ‘you shouldn’t have trusted them’. It calls him a fool and promises that if he’s going down, so are they. All of them. An off-kilter bullet tears a hole just left to his hesitant foot, a good as any incentive to keep going.

So he does just that, focused on taking one step after another as he finally comes close enough to face Lilith, the distance shortened to an arm’s length. But before he can open his mouth and say something snarky and spiteful another gunshot pierces the complete silence and whipping his head around, he catches the sight of Rhys’ lifeless body sagging to the ground. There is a loud gasp, a sob more likely, torn from Sasha who’s now struggling in August’s grasp, a pistol in his clutch and blood on his hands.

This finally makes him snap, roaring anger devouring the man who calls himself Jack, all systems sparking and heart kicked into an overdrive. The charged energy building next to him has the hairs on his arms bristle and as he swings on his heel to throw himself at the woman responsible for his misery, blue specter of light swallows his vision, the siren unleashing her powers. Rib crushing pain blooms in his chest as his fist comes in contact with her face, his own head jerked back as her punch homes in on his jaw, and a distant crack of...fireworks? or whatever the hell it is shoots up into the sky.

-II-

Athena. Rhys scrambles his brain over her sudden appearance, casually trying to move behind Fiona in order to hide. But the other woman drops to a crouch next to them, a cautious glance taken over her shoulder and she crawls closer so that the three of them can stay hidden behind a parked car.

“Don’t. Don’t call them, they are scrambling the communication and tracking all the attempts at cutting through it.” She sounds exhausted and Rhys thinks it’s all kinds of offensive because it’s not her who has been kept captive, starved off and tortured. But at the same time he thinks she’s the most glorious thing he has ever seen, right next to Fiona pulling him into the vent and only marginally better than Jack’s face as he comes with Rhys’ mouth wrapped around him. 

“Athena! Knew you’d come around!” He’s giving her the happiest, most honest and definitely lacking in the teeth department smile he can muster.

“Please stop. Don’t open your mouth it’s gross.” Oh well, Athena has never been one for affectionate words. “You were so hard to find. Couldn’t you have waited a little bit longer for me to bail you out? God awful Atlas failure of a man.” She’s pissed and that’s how he knows she cares, hand coming up to cover his mouth as another smile tugs at his lips. “You look like hell…”

“I feel like hell.” Good ol’ Athena must have thought about that too, passing a small medkit to him. It’s not much but should help him last the night at the very least.

“I thought you turned your back on us when you left…” Fiona sounds solemn, her shoulders dropping as she slinks down to the ground. “We could really use your help here…”

“Of course you could! Listen here you punks, there isn’t much time left. They are gearing up and plan on using Holtz as a decoy, he’s wearing this moron’s face. I have an idea how to deal with the bandits and Dahl’s men…” 

“Yeah, we know. Anyway, okay, what do you need? We’re on board, right Rhys?” He nods, moving to sit right beside Fiona, back propped against the side of the car and a small exhale escaping his lips as for now he settles for just listening to them and trying to patch himself up.

“We will need some explosives, there is too many people to take any half measures. Someone will need to disable the jamming signal, it’s up there on that tower. I guess you can leave that part to me.” Following Athena’s explanations, Fiona nods and promises to find a way to get the explosives. Apparently there is a stash of what they need in one of the back warehouses. “Oh yeah, and Rhys?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need your prosthetic arm.”

“On it.”

-II-

They meet half an hour later in a different spot, finally joined by Loader Bot and Gortys, Fiona carelessly tossing a giant heap of various assorted explosives which prompts a strangled yelp from Rhys, he himself desperately clutching his severed arm. Athena shows up last and actually manages to snigger at the sight.

“That was a joke. I was fucking with you, I don’t really need your arm.” Her sense of humour has indeed improved since they first became acquainted all those years ago, Janey’s courtesy as far as he knows but it still makes him growl in annoyance. Especially since he went to great lengths, crawling through the vents and wasting precious time huddled in the shadows to wait the guards out just to get his arm back.

“Nice one!” Gortys doesn’t need to add insult to the injury but at the very least he can count on LB to help him re-attach the arm, as best as they can, some mobility retained despite the extensive damage.

“Athena… what about Lilith? I saw her shooting up extra eridium…” Fiona finally brings up the topic they all have been avoiding so far, one last problem in need of resolving. None of them is exactly equipped to deal with a pissed off siren, the question lingering in the air for a little while until Athena only shakes her head and follows it with a shrug. She hasn’t got a clue but that’s okay. That’s okay because it’s time for Rhys to shine and cracking a lopsided smirk he takes a step forward, drawing their attention.

“I wouldn’t worry about her… And that’s because my friends, we have a siren killer at our disposal.”

He then tells them all about project Odysseus. Starting with a very brief description of how he brought Jack back to give some background Rhys tries avoiding Fiona’s squinted eyes boring into him. She doesn’t take kindly to people keeping secrets from her but Rhys kept the whole thing under wraps for safety reasons, the only person ever truly involved and almost as well informed as him being August. Again, for safety reasons. He doesn’t tell them about the panic button the chief of security is cleared to, a kill switch if things went horribly wrong but then again, he isn’t going to let anyone in on this ever. Besides bringing Jack back, Cathy’s team was also assigned with figuring out the real purpose of the alien device, their untimely passing prompting Rhys to gather another team, working with the blueprints and scant information gathered during routine checkups they run on Jack, but none of the truly important knowledge. Eventually they connected the dots, the frequent power outages, the ever failing prosthetic limb and the way Jack’s heart rate spiked up when he got over excited or pissed off. Where there is eridium and emotions running high troubles are bound to happen because the device powering his heart feeds on that energy. They think it doesn’t need it to sustain itself but at the same time, it acts like a repulsor, shutting things down or soaking up the heat and returning it twice fold to fry the circuits. That’s how project Odysseus comes to life, suppressors casually slipped into Jack’s systems and it’s not like Rhys is hiding it from him, data sticks brimming with descriptions stored in the safe room at his apartment but he doesn’t tell him either. Because Vaults run on eridium. And so do sirens. The two banes of Jack’s existence and the man, as he is, doesn’t need much to tumble into yet another obsession and Rhys, as he is, doesn’t need to waste his time babysitting that asshole. Which he ended up doing anyway, just his luck.

They fall silent for a while until Fiona’s cold, collected words finally breaks the uneasy quietness.

“You lied to us again.”

“I did not. I just… kept some things private.”

“You asshole. You should have told us. You should have told us and none of this would had happened. Handsome Jack’s wild goose chase? It’s on you. Because as far as I can tell, he was looking for -this-, wasn’t he?” In her palm lies something disturbingly familiar. A small shape, flat and oval and he knows that if you prod it wires will extend.

“Where did you get it? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Same way you did moron, from the vault. I just… like to keep some things private.” She mocks him and he knows that but still doesn’t care. Right there is the possible solution he has searched for for so long and now might be too late for that. At least he thinks of it as a solution because god knows what it can do and if it can fix him but the other device he found? It helped, it gave life to a dead body so maybe, just maybe… he doesn’t dare to finish his train of thoughts and doesn’t dare to reach for it as he watches Fiona stuff it into her pocket again. 

“We’ll talk about it later. Now we need to figure out how to trigger Jack’s heart if that will even work with the suppressors, right?”

“I’ve ordered my men to switch off anything that could hinder the outbursts when he left. Kinda hoped that between the four of you it will be safe to let him loose if you were to run into troubles.”

“Ain’t you glad you did that, eh? Anyway, so how do we do it?” Before Rhys gets the chance to answer, Athena decides to finally join the conversation after having mulled over everything that was said and coming to a conclusion of a sort.

“Handsome Jack fears one thing and one thing only. Betrayal. So I say we break his heart.” She could stand for being a little bit less cheerful about it but he agrees regardless. 

“We will need to get him close and personal with Lilith first, it works based on proximity largely, but we’ll figure it out as we go.”

Before the sun will set they need a couple more things to be done, setting up the charges and then finding a safe spot to watch over the unfolding events. Athena disappears to climb the tower and wait for the right moment to finally disable the jamming signal while the bots prepare the ‘fireworks’ so Rhys is left with Fiona, huddled at the back of one of the trucks and hoping no one would find them. They are back to snarling at each other, both sulking at the lack of trust and communication which landed them in this situation.

-II-

“You BITCH!” The booming voice finally has them poking their heads out, safe and hidden from the enemy’s gaze as everyone’s eyes focus on the seething figure in the distance. 

“Rhys!” Through the static Athena’s voice breaks, a dead indicator that she has managed to take down the scrambling system. “He’s going to bolt. Do -something-!”

Things aren’t ever easy but that’s part of life he guesses, frantically booting his echo eye, the transmission reaching out to get a hold of the man at the center of this chaos.

“August?” His voice is as demanding as he can muster it to be and Rhys desperately tries to figure out how to make sure the chief of security will get on with his plan. “You have to listen to me, it’s… it’s ten million dollars guy calling you, the guy Lilith has there? It’s Holtz, you need to get Jack going, get him close to her, do it at all cost and when you get a clear shot, kill the double. Make sure Jack sees that.” There is a moment of hesitation before a curt reply comes, a clipped ‘got it boss’ and he breaths a little bit easier, watching the events unfold. He’s not as heartless as to not feel a drop in his stomach when he spots Jack’s heartbroken expression but it’s not the time to dwell on his own feelings, another order, sent out to the dutiful bots to set off the charges the moment the replica of his body tumbles to the ground, a split second stillness in the air before all hell breaks loose. There is a burst of blue lights, swallowing the two rivalling figures in the center of everyone’s attention, but it dissipates as soon as it has started, and even from his far-off spot he can see the furious purplish glow of charged cybernetics, dotting along the spine of the only man standing, the backlash of the energy sapped from siren’s attack knocking everyone down in the radius of a couple of feet. 

The explosions take out most of the Dahl’s soldiers, his own men, clad in the familiar greys and oranges begin swarming the place as he gets up and dashes towards the center of the mayhem. 

There he sees them, time standing still around the two figures, Jack pointing a scavenged gun at the woman at his feet, a perplexed expression on her blood smeared face. She looks helpless, her power swallowed by the device else she would have tried fighting off her adversary tooth and nail. Rhys makes the last effort to reach them, his hand coming up to rest over the other man’s shoulder.

“No.”

He has worked too hard on crushing everything that made Handsome Jack and rebuilding him from scratch and he’s not about to let his sacrifice go to waste. Not like that and not for such a stupid reason as revenge. 

“Not like that. Not now. Not here. Not ever.” Blue and green eyes shoot up to meet his and there is an instant look of relief spreading over the other man’s features, quickly replaced by the familiar anger. Jack is many things, stubborn, hotheaded and above all prone to violence when emotions overcome him, but he isn’t stupid. Rhys can nearly see his sharp mind piecing everything together and so the fist that lands against his midsection is unwelcomed but unsurprising. At least it wasn’t to his face and so he knows that Jack was worried sick about him, crooked grin splitting his lips and he shows off his defective set of teeth. Their attention however quickly shifts to the only other person paying attention to their little reunion, the barrel of a trembling pistol trained on him as the girl, Cathy’s daughter, approaches them, eyes wild and face dirtied with grease and ash. He is once again forced to stop Jack, blood seeping through the other man’s shirt from his jostled wound and four fingers give a tighter squeeze followed with a soft ‘no’, his next words louder and stronger as he addresses the girl.

“Stop. It will not bring your mother back. Child, you are only perpetuating the same idea of revenge over and over again. Do not let yourself become like the people you h…” Whatever more of that questionable wisdom he had to share with her dies out with gunshots, one, two, three bullets whizzing past them and for once he doesn’t stop Jack as he unloads his magazine into the broken face of the Dahl representative. He also doesn’t stop him because his face is on fire. One of the shots must have caught him in the side of his head, grazing the port at his temple and piercing the skin and bone alike. Rhys is still conscious, Echo eye going in and out of focus as broken circuitry sends multiple shocks into his brain and he barely registers arms coming up to catch him before he can slump to the ground, the other man gently lowering him down, nearly cradling his body, back hunched to protectively curl over him. Through panic and pain he can see Jack looming over him and judging by the expression on his face things aren’t good. The bullet has probably left a gaping hole in the side of his head, thankfully leaving no residual elemental damage but the scrambled implants are positively frying his brain alive. He whines but can’t tell if it is a quiet, pained noise or something louder because his hearing just went out, sight threatening to follow next. He also can’t make out what Jack’s saying, his lips moving in slow motion and Rhys feels too tired to work himself up over the splash of dampness landing on his cheek. There are some remnants of desperation tugging at his fading awareness because he still has a couple of things he needs to say but despite trying as hard as he can they never make it past his lips.   
Overall it’s not so bad, he was expecting to go out in the quietness of his room, maybe a hospital bed, maybe on his way to work or maybe with a dick in his ass and Jack tangled into him, his mind in his happy place. Whatever he entertained himself imagining it definitely wasn’t anything like that, with his body too numb to feel the hand tightly wrapped around his and with roaring fire beginning to spread onto buildings surrounding them.   
Overall it’s not so bad, he thinks, because he’ll go out in style and you know, cool guys don’t look at explosions and so he lets his eyes fall shut.

His idle musing is interrupted when someone jerks him, eyes snapping open and he watches Jack’s blurred face disappear, replaced by the familiar green eyes, Fiona popping in his peripheral vision. There are hands tilting his head, his muscles powerless to strain against it. He oh so naively thought that he’s grown used to the numbness drowning out everything else but when something digs into the open wound a completely new dimension of hell opens, fingers prying the shrapnel of the shattered port and bone from his flesh. He recognizes the sick slick with which the undamaged rest of the port slips from the tender tissue and there is physical emptiness making his stomach churn. Rhys thinks he might have screamed if the raw scratch at the back of his throat is anything to go by and then he thinks he might have screamed some more, struggling against more hands than there originally should be pinning him down as something -touches- his brain. Theoretically he knows he shouldn’t be able to feel it, but theoretical knowledge is not something particularly important right now, tendrils of something alien snaking inside of his skull and it feels all kinds of -wrong-, pushing any coherence left back and subduing his consciousness as merciful darkness finally takes over and he’s falling, falling over the edge and plummeting into the nothingness of oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda upset to break it off at this point but this chapter is unreasonably long so eeh. At least i've managed to convince myself that going with the usual 4:1 narrative ratio would be horrible what with needing to extend Jack's part and cutting off Rhys' much earlier. I love drama but not THAT much hhhah im not a tease.  
> I really hope everything is clear and makes sense cuz ive been struggling with this somewhat fierce.


	6. The lies won't hide your flaws

-Rhys-

It’s nearly over a month since Jack has dragged his bloodied, bruised body into the med wing, apparently screaming bloody murder and demanding instant attention from everyone within a hundred feet radius if the still skittish personnel and the stories passed around in hushed whispers when they think he’s asleep are anything to go by. Rhys thankfully has no memories of the rest of that night but from what Sasha and the rest of the gang told him, they still are having nightmares of his blood-curdling shrieks. However, as far as he can tell the invasive device latching and fusing with his brain left no mental scarring, or at least that’s what he tries to convince himself of in the dead of the night when doubts take over. The docs have managed to patch him up somehow, largely thanks to an insta-health someone mercifully jammed into his bloodstream, although bandages still cover half of his head, protective lining pressed over the scarred flesh of his temple and gauze hiding his currently empty eye socket. It’s going to take a while, they said, till the research team can come up with new cybernetics that the eridian device wouldn’t reject and mostly, he wishes they would just let him wear a badass eyepatch so he could inflict even more terror onto his enemies. They don’t and so he’s left sulking, his vision off center, and restless as the time since he awoke from the med induced slumber draggs day by day. 

These days he feels good enough to be up and about, making the hospital staff’s lives a living hell as he keeps causing troubles and poking his nose where it does not belong. Today however, Rhys has been behaving himself for the most of the time, clearly up to something no good but no one dares to press the matter until Yvette shows up, chucking a bag of freshly pressed clothes at him.

It’s something they have discussed earlier, the disgruntled woman eventually agreeing to his plan. At the reception desk she promises to bring him back, safe and sound in just a couple of hours, the jittery receptionist nodding his head hesitantly, unwilling to dispute with her commanding attitude and Rhys’ own bouncy demeanor. 

“Hey, you really sure about this Rhys?” He’s currently slumped in the passenger seat of her sleek, red sports car, the only person on Pandora to ever understand his undying love for over-the-top cars sat by the steering wheel. A large part of him suspects that she has purposely chosen this particular vehicle from her collection to cheer him up, the hood rolled down and wind in his hair as they speed through the mostly empty streets, prompting a relaxed sigh.

“Positive. I won’t rest easy until we get this over with.” Rhys has got two uneasy conversations ahead of him, partly inclined to postpone at least one of them.

“Whatever you say pumpkin.” And with that his lighter mood is gone, an annoyed snort given to voice his displeasure. Jack hasn’t shown up once since bringing him in, not that he can blame him, the man’s absolute aversion to any and all medical facilities understandable but still leaving him disappointed. “Oh come on, quit the mopping. Jack is an asshole but he hasn’t done anything stupid since you’re back so that’s saying a thousand words. August has even managed to drag him out for some weird alpha bonding ritual as a ‘sorry i pulled a gun on you’ and by the time we have found them they were smashed. Event haven’t strangled each other!” He’s side-eyeing her somewhat fierce, arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I’m just infinitely jealous you were having fun without me.” By now they have arrived at their destination, a tall, heavily guarded building. It’s basically a prison, under the guise of a fancy apartment complex but the bars in the windows and the bulletproof glass betray the illusion. He has set up the place for some of his more… upstanding prisoners, an annoying representative of one of the rival companies whom he would eventually need to return, a bratty only-child of some rich bastard who happened to get into drunken troubles at one of his tourist resorts or as it turns out, a siren and a teenage girl he didn’t know what to do with. Regardless, no one could say Pandora under Atlas’ rule wasn’t a civilised place. They go through a routine security check at the door and Yvette stays downstairs as he heads for the lift that will take him to Lilith’s quarters.

Rhys finds the siren poking at the untouched food on her plate, a collar, Jack’s design as he has been told, on her neck and a pissed expression pulling her eyebrows into a scowl.

“The man of the hour, so nice of you to finally show up.” He only rolls his eyes at the hissed statement, perching himself atop a tall chair. “I have to give it to you Atlas, never thought I’d see Handsome Jack with a proverbial muzzle slapped on his yammering face, kept on a short leash and following orders.”

“What can I say, other than, I told you so?” 

“Heh. That you did. So what are you really? Some kind of hero to miraculously turn the biggest asshole in the whole wide world into a pup trained to fetch your slippers?” She’s most probably expecting the whole story, maybe a secret of his success, but Rhys doesn’t feel like humoring her, nothing he could say getting a chance to live up to her expectations judging by her words.

“I do not delude myself with the ‘hero’ nonsense.” His voice is cold at first, but as he takes a breath, hands spread out in a nonchalant gesture his words are tinged with friendly confidence, something nearly bordering on nonchalance. “I’m just a good guy trying to do something good in this world. And as such I bring peace offering.” 

-II-

She accepts the offer, although rather begrudgingly, little choice actually given. Stay on the planet locked in this building and rot, or, let herself be shipped anywhere off-planet of her choice as long as she signs documents disclosing that she would never ever return. It does raise a couple of suspicious questions but Rhys promises that while he’s still mad at her, he just wants her out of the way, to prove, that Jack is on his way to redemption, another promise given that the other man will never pursue her, giving up on his revenge. 

There is a shuttle waiting for them at the roof of the building, one that will take them to the space port just outside of the city and Yvette is already comfortably sat in the pilot’s seat, idly picking the chipping nail polish and whistling some cheerful tune. No guards, no heavies, no one to witness the fleeing siren, the air tight doors closing behind them with a whizz. Lilith slumps down against the wall, lost in thoughts and with a small bag with all of the necessities dropped at her feet. He gave her no time to gather anything that she might have left outside of the confines of her current apartment. And she doesn’t raise a single word of protest, eager to start her life anew, away from this god forsaken planet. For now however, Rhys lets her take one last mournful look at the dull horizon of the desert stretching beyond the city line before he interrupts her quiet moment.

“See, I’m glad you’ve agreed to our little deal. This makes things a lot easier for me. And for all it’s worth… I’m sorry.” 

She’s strong, struggling against his grip, and he’s weak, still recuperating but the mechanical arm didn’t need time to heal, good as new the moment a flock of technicians finished tinkering and the metal fingers wrap around her throat with a crushing force. She flails, panic stricken eyes wildly darting between him and the impassive woman sat at the front.

“I’m sorry but I am done. So, so fucking done with self-righteous pricks like you. I am not risking everything I’ve worked so hard for just so you can sleep a little bit easier, having undoubtedly gotten the galaxy rid of one more corporate asshole.”

There are a couple of sparks of blue energy, building up despite the restrictive collar, making something at the back of his head heat up for a moment before the lights go out of the siren’s eyes and the body lifelessly dangles in his hands. Not to say she didn’t put up a fight, scratches her fingernails left at his bared forearm and his reddened face from the little tussle the only indicators that something has occurred. Rapid breaths make his chest flutter, still slightly bruised ribs protesting against the jerky movement as he lets the body slink down to the ground, staring unseeingly down.

“How did it feel?” He can feel Yvette watching him like a hawk. She and Vaughn have been keeping tabs on him since Jack’s return, wary of any bad influence the man could have had on him and Rhys can’t honestly blame them for that, but at the same time, he -knows- he just doesn’t get the thrill of a straight up murder. Ordering his people to wipe out a loose end or an inconvenient target is one thing, killing in self defense is another but this? This is all kinds of fucked up and doesn’t feel like it was some kind of rite of passage, a necessary thing he had to do nothing more, nothing less and he’s mostly glad that it didn’t screw up with his brain.

“Like it wasn’t worth pulling a muscle.” Rhys shrugs, rolling his shoulder to ease the tension beginning to build up there. He’s dismissive but the worried glance he receives has him stiffly walking closer to his friend, hand, still a little bit shaky and still missing his ring finger, coming up to rest over her shoulder. “I’m… I’m good. It’s better this way. No blood to clean up I guess.” She nods, giving a little pat to his chest before activating the device hidden under her collar, the digistructed halo swallowing her body for a second before Lilith’s green, unyielding and very much alive eyes stare back at him. It makes him shake his head, trying to also shake off the uneasy feeling. “Make sure the footage of you entering the spaceport and the documents she has signed get leaked out. Dispose of the body as we have agreed and we should be good.”

“Will do big boss.” The voice is still familiar, bringing some sort of peace to his mind and as she hands him the keys, a warning given to take good care of her ‘baby’ Rhys tosses a quick reassuring smile to let Yvette know he’s fine. But when he hops out of the shuttle, his shoulders feel heavy, another sin added to his growing collection and he heads for the door leading back into the building with his back hunched and head lowered. Feeling drained he decides to leave the other conversation he had planned for today for some other day.

-II-

They still don’t want to release him, but at least the majority of the bandages got removed, his new echo eye installed back into it’s rightful place and the new implant, slightly bigger to cover up the scarred flesh makes him itch as the gauze chafes at the still raw skin. It’s the middle of the night when he awakens, scanning the empty room and spotting a single, unoccupied chair left by the bedside. There is a small package laid on the table adjacent to his bed, the brand stapled over the plain white paper tipping him off that it’s from the small bakery near his apartment, the joint having the nearest shop in a different city, too small to make a name for themselves in the capital. The same place he used to pick the ‘sorry i fucked up’ cakes every time he and Jack fought. Mostly to sooth his own anger as between the two of them it was always Rhys who ended up devouring the sweets. Which, may mean that it’s either a happy coincidence, a gift from a fan, or that he has an unlikely visitor. 

Rhys is not nearly dramatic enough to pull the IV attached to the inside of his elbow out, the dripping bag secured to a wheeled hanger, the illusion of mobility they give him so he doesn’t need to wrestle the nurses into unplugging him each and every time he needs a trip to the toilet or just feels like stretching his legs a little bit. And so slipping a pair of flip flops he tugs the hanger with him, wheels squeaking as he sets off to try and find the other man before he gets a chance to leave. The night shift nurse tells him that Jack was last seen headed for the back door leading into the outdoor parking lot a couple of floors below them. 

The air outside is crisp and clean, the smell of rain cooling down the heated concrete strong and damn but it feels nice to get out for a little while. He can spot a lone figure further down along the side of the building a stark flicker of a lit cigarette bright in the dimmed lights of a far off street lamp.

“Hey handsome, care to spare one for me?” There is no answer aside from a pack and a lighter offered to him and for a longer while they just stand there, the cold of the night seeping through his hoodie and sweats but Rhys says nothing, simply enjoying the way smoke curls around Jack’s lips, a rare moment of stillness. There are too many unspoken words between them, too many things that need to be yelled out into the other’s face and too many questions left unanswered, the quietness precariously hanging by a thread, one wrong movement or word threatening to destroy it. He wonders which one of them is more stubborn, both dead set on maintaining the silence, for whatever unreasonable reason and the more one insists the more the other perpetuates the attitude. At it’s core, it’s unnerving and uncharacteristic to witness Jack this calm, the man tending to occasionally frown even in his sleep and Rhys itches to do something about it, reaching the butt of the cigarette with one last drag, no more excuses left and it’s do or die, break the silence or turn his tail.

“Hey…” He tries again, voice hoarse and raw “... hey, I really could go for one of those awesome hugs you always boast about... “ Rhys hates the uncertainty tinging his words and he hates how he shrinks when two mismatched eyes finally center on him but at the very least he can use it to his advantage, a well practiced, although Fiona always tells him it’s his default, pathetic look, making his shoulders droop and eyebrows knit together that fraction higher.

“You look like a goddamned mess…” Jack doesn’t move, eyes roaming over him, seemingly without any purpose beside making him uncomfortable. 

“Right back at you.” And it’s true, the other man looks like he hasn’t had a good night’s rest in a long while, his usually more or less styled hair completely out of place and the dirty sweater he’s sporting definitely doesn’t belong to him. Tense moment stretch and he grows to regret showing weakness and asking for mercy. But then Jack finally -moves- shortening the distance and coming full force to collide with Rhys’ chest, arms wrapping around his waist, and all he can do is respond in kind, pressing his nose into the messy hair as Jack tucks his face into the crook of his neck. The other man is burning hot, the way he always has, and Rhys no longer feels the cold, a solid couple of pounds lifted from his chest as he slowly inhales the familiar scent. No matter how angry Jack might be with him, no matter how much they usually fight and no matter the fact that they will probably be at each other’s throats at the earliest convenience, this single moment makes the regrete strung to every immoral decision he has made, and every life he took in order to protect the man in his arms simmer down to something easily shoved to the back of his mind. It’s selfish and egoistic but he has spiralled down this shithole even before he grew to love this insufferable prick and so Rhys likes to think his decisions weren’t entirely dictated by his feelings. He’s willing to carry his fair share of the burden for fleeting moments like this and for those days when Handsome Jack acts more like an only slightly unreasonable human being rather than the asshole persona he has created for himself.

“It’s good to have you back.” 

“It’s good to be had back.” He lets a mirthless chuckle colour his words and nosing along the side of Jack’s head he gives a small nudge. Right now he could really like a nice kiss to go with the hug. Except the other man is adamant at retaining their arrangement and the dampness suddenly seeping through the collar of his shirt has Rhys knitting his eyebrows in surprise. “Hey… told you not to go soft on me old man.” But just in case, he slightly readjust his position, cybernetic arm slung over the other’s back, flesh coming up to card his lacking set of fingers through the bird’s nest sat atop Jack’s head. The hands fisted into his hoodie give a little tug, as if trying to pull them that fraction closer despite the two of them pressed flush, sharp chin digging against his collarbone.

“...’m not going soft. I’m just a really emotional guy like that.” There is no remorse to the other’s voice, an ugly snort following his words as he sniffles and Rhys thinks he might be a little bit too deep if he finds that nearly endearing. 

“Yeah. Right. The only two emotions I have ever seen you express are ‘murder’ and ‘horny’.”

“Can’t help that most things either piss me off or turn me on.” Jack finally pulls back a fraction, however, not before rubbing his nose clean all over Rhys’ shirt, eyes slightly reddened. “You falling into both of those categories.” That of course goes without saying and as he laughs, so does Rhys, more sincerely this time. “Go back to bed kiddo. We’ll have the grown-up talk once you’re out.” Seems like both of them want to postpone the inevitable and in all honesty, he couldn’t agree more.

“Not gonna walk me back so I don’t get my ass into any more troubles?”

“Nah. I hate the stench. But do try to keep your ass out of harm’s way, that’s the only tolerable part of you” Once again, he can only wholeheartedly agree, fingers tightening on the metal rod of his iv hanger.

-II-

It takes him a couple more days to gather his resolve, Yvette showing up to pick him up again, the reluctant receptionist only shaking his head as he watches them head out. She takes him back to the glorified prison, and he’s mostly just going through the motions without paying much mind to them, the security check and the ride up to one of the higher floors. 

The moment she sees him, fork halfway to her mouth, the plate is swept from the table and chucked straight at his face. Rhys sighs, knocking it out of the way and as he starts picking the sticky noodles from his hair with an exasperated sigh, he moves to sit down.

“Easy there, you already have rent to paid for, don’t add broken crockery to it.”

“Rent?”

“What? You thought you were staying here for free child?” This time there is a half-empty glass coming for him.

“You -dickhead- I don’t want to stay here a single moment longer!”

“Well, then you’re lucky that I’m here to talk to you about releasing you.” She cocks her head, in a similar fashion her mother did and Rhys realizes he doesn’t even know her name. But then he also realizes he doesn’t want to know it, unwilling to get attached in any way. “I can set you free but you have a debt to repay, how are you going to go about it?” He can be cold and detached when need strikes and right now is the perfect time to let loose his inner asshole.

“Fuck you, I owe you nothing.” 

“Here’s the bill for your accommodation at this illustrious establishment. All of my ‘guests’ need to cover the expenses. I’m sorry but that’s how the world works” He shrugs, watching her eyes grow wide at the hefty sum of money printed out.

“I uh… don’t have that much.” No surprises here.

“I know. Work for me. Atlas provides education as well as opportunities for internship, if you are half as clever as your mother was you have a shot at making a name for yourself. Work for me and we will deduct a percentage of your salary until you are free to go.” She’s eyeing him carefully, weighing her options and worrying at her lower lip, the papers crumbled in her clenched hand.

“How do you know I won’t make another pass at your life?” As if this little nugget could pose any threat to him, not without help, no.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“What’s with the sudden good guy’s act?” She’s clearly conflicted, most probably having lived the past year in fear of him, harbouring hatred and painting a clear image of a murderous, ruthless CEO in her mind.

“Listen…” He leans forward, elbows resting over his knees as he staples his fingers together, eyes firmly fixed on the girl. She couldn’t be much older than him when he first showed up at Hyperion’s doorstep, his CV clutched in his hand and heart in his throat. Back then he did not know how much corporate lifestyle will turn his world upside down, dead set on climbing the ladder and making a name for himself. Which he did in the end. “...don’t let people fool you. Pandora ain’t no place for good guys and I sure as hell am not one of them, so I’d advise you grow a thick hide, grind your teeth and hold onto this opportunity with all your might. This is the only time anyone will try to help you.”

He leaves her to ponder over her choices, quite convinced that he has just gotten himself one more employee and one less enemy. 

-II-

Jack curls on the empty armchair, missing its usual occupant and huddled under a comforter. He keeps lazily flicking through the channels until a news report catches his attention. It covers the merciful release of a wanted criminal, shot from a downward angle as if from a security camera and for a moment, Lilith’s eyes focus on the lense, looking through it and straight at him. Or at least it feels like that. Anger sparks in his chest as the reporter keeps droning on, describing in detail the deal Atlas has struck with the infamous siren, the company hardly known to the wider public for giving second chances. There is a mention of an assassination attempt at one of the higher ranking Atlas employees but few details are disclosed.

Letting his eyes fall shut, Jack breathes heavily through his nose, once again cursing Rhys’ idiotic penchant for trusting people too much. And here he was so naively hoping for a grand scale execution, maybe some tortures but at least some, any means to wrap up this loose end, the only reason keeping him steering clear away from the prison where she was held at. Now the chance is gone. A large part of him wants him to spring to his feet and dig through the data to find out the current location of the woman but there also is something inside of him, a small voice arguing that he can’t really remember the last time turning his back on the other man worked out for him. Eventually coming to some sort of conclusion, Jack slumps down again, deciding to just stay mad at that moron and give him shit later but maybe there was no harm in trusting his choice. After all, everything Rhys has done so far was to protect him, clumsy as it was Jack mostly benefited from falling in line, albeit grumpily and with a good dose of fussing and hissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter left to wrap everything up! im gonna miss them so much ahhhh


	7. The heart and the brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some talking and then some making out does that sound like a good way to wrap this up?

-Jack-

A couple more weeks pass after his impulsive decision to drop by the med wing and Jack mostly busies himself with keeping Atlas up and running. Getting unexpectedly dropped into the CEO seat somehow happens to be a recurring thing in his life, not that he minds, not at all. This time it however involved a little bit less strangulation and Jack is hesitant whether he should attribute ‘good’ or ‘bad’ to it. As things are now, he’s trying to make the most out of the limited time he has, knowing very well that once Rhys recovers, the power will be snatched from his hands and that’s something which has him on his toes, accepting of the inevitable fate but pissed off regardless. And so day by day Jack spends his time implementing every single change he feels Atlas could use but its about-to-return boss wouldn’t approve of. A go ahead for the potentially lethal genetic research, a shift of their forces to spread out into the desert and hunt down the remaining bandits, extra funds pushed to the Atlas’ sponsored team of vault hunters to stay put for a little bit longer and a large flock of R&D scientists sent out to try and blueprint Gortys. He’s surprised Rhys never invested into researching her powers but Jack supposes the man has never been big on the whole vault hunting business. The people running project Odysseus are granted better clearance, Jack having little regard for the previous restrictions, dead set on uncovering what keeps him and Rhys alive. At least this part of his activities gains approval from the ex-boss, both of them equally hungry for knowledge. 

The initial reports are promising. It’s some sort of a weapon, two parts intended to work in a tandem. The heart and the brain, and he has to wonder how different Eridians were from them given that it has adopted to human biology quite well. The heart and the brain and he finds the distribution among them, what with him getting the former and Rhys gettign the latter, infinitely ironic. The heart and the brain that would give a single wielder an effective means of fighting off anything that still stays hidden in the remaining vaults. He has heard the speculations that the ancient civilization was gearing up for war, and what they have here, appears to be a countermeasure to everything that was created, built, perhaps, by a rogue squad, traitors maybe, but that would also explain why the Vault of the Traveler stayed on the move, untraceable and elusive as it was until the old Atlas figured out how to ground it and tap into it’s potential. 

Jack’s head spins at the thought of what it means, between the two of them, the power considerably weakened, and the abilities Gortys wields there is nothing anyone armed in Vault tech could do, the threat reduced to null if they play their cards right. Doesn’t necessary mean he lusts after the Eridian technology less, but it no longer is an arms race, Atlas gaining exclusive rights to snuff out any possible competition in this field. 

On the night following the breakthrough the team makes Jack finally sleeps a fraction easier, sprawled on Rhys’ bed and minding the loneliness a little bit less.

-II-

The closer Rhys’ release date comes the more anxious Jack grows, he wants the kid back but he’s uncertain of how things between them will be. It’s hard to sort out his own emotions when it’s not want or bloodlust and he’s left quietly fuming throughout the majority of the night preceding the other man coming back home, blaming Rhys for somehow making him waste precious time on such a trivial thing as -thinking-. It’s not his departament really, Jack is all about action, rash decisions and instincts while over thinking and consideration more of that nerd’s thing. He ends up curled up in his new favourite spot, wrapped up in borrowed clothes that these days smell more like Jack anyway and with a blanket carelessly thrown over his lap. 

-II-

The wake up call comes in the form of a finger jabbing at his chest, and when he finally blinks awake there is a set of two mismatched eyes squinting at him, Rhys’ lips curled in a light snarl. Seeing him annoyed like that immediately brightens up Jack’s day. He doesn’t know what got the other man so pissed off so early in the morning yet but it hardly matters when he flashes a toothy, lazy grin splayed over his lips.

“Hi pumpkin!”

“Get off my armchair.” There is a thumb angrily jerked, motioning for Jack to get moving and it gives him all the incentive he needs to recline a little bit more comfortable on his furniture of choice.

“Nah, I’m good here.” His eyes sweep over the figure looming over him, taking in the new augmentations, the golden tinted iris, the prosthetic ring finger that nicely matches the arm and the hexagonal shaped port at the temple, as his gaze inches higher, a wider grin tugs the corner of his mouth higher at the sight of a discoloured strand of hair tucked behind the other’s ear. This is just too good and Jack isn’t going to let it slide any time soon.

“Get. Off.” Rhys is cranky and exasperated which isn’t much of a surprise given that he finally is out and back home and there is someone lounging in his armchair with a nasty smirk. Jack thinks the animosity colouring his words is a little bit uncalled for but god has he missed it.

“I don’t feel like it. You are welcome onto my lap though.” His hands pat the indicated space and he half hopes for the invitation to be accepted and half expects it to only add fuel to the fire. It turns out to be the latter when two hands slam either side of his head against the cushioned backrest, pressing until the front legs slightly lift off the floor.

“Don’t test my patience. First my apartment, then my bedroom, then my clothes, then the armchair, what else are you going to steal you wretch?”

“Your heart?” Jack’s snigger turns into a yelp when the other man follows up with his threat and the armchair tips over sending him tumbling down and awkwardly landing on his back. No sooner than he draws in a deep breath to start a rant, a mechanical hand fists into the front of his sweater, dragging him up and into a warm embrace and it’s everything he sorely missed. His own arms are like a vice, wrapped around the other’s neck and he has to lift himself a little bit on his toes, shifting some of his weight to drape it over his victim, the hands splayed over the small of his back keeping him steady and Jack gives an affectionate nose bump.

“-That- you already did.” Rhys finally cracks a smile, those brilliant mismatched eyes disappearing behind dropping eyelashes and as Jack lowers himself back down, done with balancing on the balls of his feet, he’s pleased to find that his movement is being followed, the other man slightly hunching down to maintain the contact. It’s different to the last hug they shared, when back then, the emotions were running high, raw and desperate, this time it’s relaxed, safe and fuck, most of all, well-deserved for all the shit they had to pull through. There still is a lingering stench of antiseptics clinging to Rhys’ skin, making Jack wrinkle his nose as the other man presses his cheek to Jack’s, giving a few affectionate rubs and he thinks he can deal with it for now. He can feel a hand smoothing up along his spine, fingers bumping into the shallow indentations where the cybernetics sit, the pressure bringing them closer, pressed virtually knees to chests and while it all feels extra nice, there are some more pressing matters he needs to address.

“Mmm, how about you let me grab some breakfast and then we can go back to it?”

“More like a lunch by now, it’s midday.” Which means he’s running late for work but who’s there to berate him anyway? A day off could never hurt and with a nonchalant shrug, Jack extracts himself from a pair of fairly reluctant to let go limbs and heads for the kitchen. His offer to prepare something for the both of them gets declined, and for a moment he stops in his tracks, watching the other man bow down to hoist the toppled over armchair back into its original position, most likely intentionally facing away from Jack and he gets an eyeful of the soft curve of his ass. He hums appreciatively as Rhys sighs, dropping onto his armchair, long legs splayed before him and head lolling to the side. It’s fun, getting him all hot and bothered in the meanest of ways and then watching him slip back into that more controlled state. His willingness to just nearly instantly let go of whatever new incarnation of pettiness Jack comes up with is something he can certainly appreciate. The kid doesn’t let anger fester within him, for better or worse but it surely must have contributed to the improving relations between them. 

 

A cup in one hand and a plate in the other, Jack parks his ass on the couch, quickly digging in and shooting a wink over the rim of his mug at the other man who’s currently watching him, lazily sprawled on his recliner, cheek resting over his loosely curled fist. It’s time for a little heart to heart to clear the air and they both seem to follow a similar line of thoughts as Rhys finally breaks the silence.

“Alright, shoot, cause you look like you are about to burst.” Jack meets that with a humourless chuckle, wiping the remains of a condiment from the corner of his lips with a thumb and watching how brown and yellow eyes intently follow the gesture.

“Well, let’s start with ‘how many secrets are you still keep from me pumpkin?’.”

“Enough to keep you on your toes.” It’s annoyingly flippant but a scowl from him has Rhys dropping the attitude, his next words sounding more solemn. “Nothing that should really bother you.” Somehow he doesn’t believe that. “Nor anything of the same scope as project Odysseus, and for the record, this one also was out in the open from the day you broke into that room, I did not hide it, you just… never asked about it.”

“Cut the crap Rhysie.” The other man leans forward, brows furrowed and he staples his fingers together.

“I mean it.” His voice is quiet, dropping to those soothing tones which do wonders for Jack’s frazzled nerves and he has to wonder if it’s intentional, to keep him placated for the time being. “No more earth-shattering news out of nowhere. If I keep something from you it is not out of spite, do not question my trust, have I not shown over and over again how far I’m willing to go for you?”

“I only question your judgement.” It makes the other man drop his gaze to the ground, teeth worrying at his lower lip and shoulders hunched. Jack knows his words may be hurtful but then again, he’s not going to hold back, he has never been the one to do that anyway. “For all your bark your bites can sometimes be pretty shallow.”

“That’s why I have you. And Yvette, and August and Vaughn…” Jack’s eyebrows draw together trying to place a face to that name. “...and the rest. There is a lesson for you to be learnt there Jack, even you aren’t infallible so could you please please please try to rely a little bit more on me and them?” It’s a weird creature, this construct Rhys has built, ambling on unstable legs and between August’s trigger-happiness and Yvette’s demanding charm it bludgeons its way through life, supported by Vaughn’s financial instinct and Rhys’ stupid bravado, influence spreading in every direction thanks to the multitude of alliances they have forged and Jack thinks that maybe there could be a place for him somewhere amidst this mess. Fiona has proven herself in his eyes for example, despite her saving Rhys when it was -him- who was supposed to do that, still being a thorn in his side. Similarly he can see the chief of security for the ruthless man he is and that’s also something Jack can respect. His thoughts idly drifting to the memories of the friends he used to have, those who betrayed him and those whom he has ultimately betrayed but the air surrounding Rhys is completely different, these people are stupidly loyal, not to the man himself but the group as it is. With Jack not being the centerpiece but rather an element, and despite it being a blow to his ego, he can possibly see himself giving the idea a shot.

Setting down the now empty mug, he leans back against the backrest of the couch, giving a small rub to the tip of his nose with the back of his finger and carefully formulates his next words.

“Yeah. Maybe I could. And maybe it would work for some time but… that month before everything went to shit? Before you were taken and I… ran away… it only shows that there are some things I can’t overcome, a flaw or intentional element I can’t say . And it’s going to be Helios all over again, I… Rhysie, it’s as integral to my coding as are the puppy eyes to your DNA.” Jack had a lot of time to mull over his actions and where he went wrong, no real regret on his part but introspective enough to plant a seed of doubt somewhere deep inside of him. He’s a tragedy waiting to happen, no self-restraint instincts, Handsome Jack laying dormant and waiting for something to pick his interest enough to bother rearing his head so he can chase the white rabbit, taking everyone along for the mad ride.

“First of all, I don’t -do- puppy eyes.” He’s receiving a flat stare from across the room. “Second of all I thought we went over it before.”

“Did we?” Jack doesn’t recall and his eyes narrow slightly as the other man gives a sigh, standing up and briskly crossing the distance between them to come and join him on the couch, facing towards Jack and the back of the couch and with one leg curled under him, flesh hand coming up to rest over his thigh.

“Yeah, we did. Jack, you are an asshole I know it. I can deal with it, else I wouldn’t have brought you back. There is no amount of shit you could pull off that I couldn’t handle. Break my face, break my heart, break -your- heart, run away, betray or steal from me. I’ve got you, I’m not going to be happy but I’ve got you and I’ve got this.” The words are spoken in a soft, calming voice but there is steel behind them and there is steel in those pretty eyes he could stare into for days. “Just, you know man… -try- not to do these things, that’s all I am asking for.” Rhys follows it with a noncommittal shrug and makes a move to get up and return to his seat, deeming his words effective enough that he doesn’t need to support them with physical proximity any more. But there is a hand fisted into the lapel of his vest and a tug has him relaxing back into his awkward half-sit at the edge of the couch.

“I can’t tell where Handsome Jack ends and I begin…” It’s quiet, more mumbled than actually said, green and blue eyes fixed on the floor. 

“Well, lucky for you…” There is a hand coming up to smooth back some of the strands that fell loose over his forehead, not trying to coax him into meeting the stare undoubtedly centered on him but simply providing some sort of comfort “...I never got to meet the original, whatever makes you -you- is all I have and have ever known so… yeah, I really don’t have high expectations.” The last part sounds condescending but tinged with barely contained laughter and it quite successfully manages to ease his foul mood, earning Rhys a fairly light punch to his arm and a muttered ‘jerk’. 

“Come on kiddo, I believe we still have some unfinished business. And I won’t ask the third time.” Once again Jack pats his lap in an invitation, this time getting the reaction he previously hoped for as Rhys sprawls himself partly on the couch partly on his lap, arm thrown over Jack’s hip and face resting over his stomach. The atmosphere is easier now and they get to talk about other things still needed to be discussed, Rhys relating in greater detail how exactly he got himself into troubles, Jack only shaking his head at the sheer stupidity of it. That eventually leads them to the uneasy topic of Lilith’s release and the arm around his midsection tightens as if to hold him down but the veiled pleading has him reluctantly agreeing to give up on pursuing her. For now at least. In return Jack briefs the other man, who’s right now purring like an overgrown cat with the slow strokes of Jack’s hand over his side, on everything that has happened at Atlas in his absence, conveniently leaving out the extra changes he’s been implementing. 

It’s a longer while later, both of them eventually falling quiet and simply enjoying the contact, Jack idly rubbing little circles with his thumb over the other’s cheekbone as he himself is getting lazily nuzzled, a mop of messy hair resting over his abdomen. The nose so far rubbing a spot just a little bit over his navel inches lower, cybernetic fingers giving a tug to the hem of his sweater and then there are warm lips pressing just to the side of his hipbone. A small hum prompts two mismatched eyes to shoot a cheeky look up the length of his body and he can just barely see those soft lips curling into something more mischievous. Jack isn’t going to protest as the other starts pressing more of those lovely open-mouthed kisses along the dip of his hip, the mechanic hand sneaking up under his sweater, his own fingers splayed over the stretch of pale skin poking from just above the waistline of Rhys’ pants. It makes the heat pool lower, between his legs and the teasing, unfortunately not followed by anything serious quickly enough to sate his impatience, eventually has him nudging the other man to roll onto his back, still sprawled across his lap and Jack leans down to press their lips together, insistent tongue demanding access. There is no denying that the nearly two months’ long separation has left him positively starving for some action and the languid, lazy affections Rhys keeps offering quickly fan the eagerness prompting him to drag his free hand over the arched body. His fingernails leave a trail of thin red lines peeping from underneath a hiked up shirt, leading from the center of the other’s chest, down over his ribs and to the edge of his slacks, fingers toying with soft tufts of hair before following the trail lower and under the material. His ministrations have Rhys sighing softly against his lips and squirming but when he moves to dip his hand farther into his pants, the hand tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, so far keeping him close, lets go only to wrap around his wrist stalling his progression. Jack pulls back a little bit, eyebrows knit in confusion and there is a second before the answer to his unspoken question will come, a second where he gets to greedily take in the view before him, the blush colouring Rhys’ cheeks and ears, the slightly unfocused gaze and the parted lips, damp and reddened. He thinks that it’s something he could never get enough of.

“Hey…” The other man swallows thickly, tongue darting to run over the same spot Jack’s has been a moment ago and the look he’s giving is honest if slightly embarrassed. “I think I may not be… ahh exactly up for it just yet. Not until my body flushes out the remaining meds they have pumped into me.” He cracks a crooked grin but his next words are much lighter, the previous hesitance disappearing behind a playful tone. “Don’t get me wrong -I- am totally up for it, I just don’t think some parts of me get the memo.”

It doesn’t bother Jack and he leans down to stifle the constant talking, cutting Rhys off halfway through him demanding that he doesn’t stop with the petting because ‘it still feels hella fucking ni…’ and his hands ultimately stay above the line the other’s waistband. With nothing directly distracting him, Rhys turns out to be a horrible tease, wandering fingers driving Jack to a slow, consuming madness, anxious whimpers escaping him every time the other shifts, accidentally or maybe ‘accidentally’ brushing against the tented material of his sweatpants even though curious hands focus mostly on his back and neck, occasionally coming a little bit too close for comfort to the port lodged into his flesh. Not known for his patience, Jack eventually gives in, deciding that if he doesn’t do something himself, the other will be perfectly content just flopped on his back and kissing lazily. Maybe if not for the time together they have missed it wouldn’t feel so urgent or maybe it’s because Jack just doesn’t do slow and easy. Regardless, he ends up straightening his bowed back to rest against the back of the couch and with both hands fisted into the front of Rhys’ shirt, he briefly drags him up for one last bruising kiss before dropping him unceremoniously face first into his lap. It prompts a chuckle but the other man obediently noses along the straining material, bringing that little bit of much needed friction and Jack’s fingers curl into the messy hair, his other hand moving to give a few unfocused pats over Rhys’ side for as long as some brain cells are still functional. When his pants are tugged down just enough to free the hard flesh and warm lips press to the junction between his thigh and groin, his absentminded pats turn into a full-blown grope, hand slipping to cup the perky ass. Jack’s head drops back, thankfully supported by the back of the couch or else it would be just lifelessly lolling and he lets the more tactile element take over the visuals. If the artificial memories stored at the back of his head are true, it has always been like that, although it’s hard to attribute it with certainty to either the cloned body or cloned personality, any traces of coherence scattering whenever pleasure would shoot up, and while he doesn’t mind letting his partners take the reigns, always choosing those who were strong and bossy, a part of him wishes to sometimes swap the places. Be it because of that side of him that always seeked control or just to spice things up he has always admired people like Nisha who retained perfect control over what happened in their bedroom. Rhys isn’t nearly as controlling as she was but he can play Jack like a finely tuned instrument, clearly a shared trait between all of his long-term partners. That is not to say he didn’t have a fair share of casual encounters but those don’t count, most of those one-time adventures, people too fucking scared of him or too fucking wrapped up into the image of himself he created to notice the mess he would turn into. It certainly doesn’t help that he apparently is dealing with a professional here, the slow drags of tongue followed with nearly ticklish flicks over the more sensitive head, alternating with unexpected tightness and suction when the other man decides to spice things up and straight up swallow as much of his length as possible in one go, clearly dedicated to the task at hand. Jack wishes he could keep his eyes fully open but everytime Rhys hits just the right spot they flutter close and he loses the precious image, the hand at his hip pinning him down so he can’t even buck into the damp heat. He whines, fingers flexing in the messy hair he’s still trying to hold on, and he has to will himself into staying put instead of just shoving the other’s head down and fucking into the willing mouth, mostly convinced that it wouldn’t get him what he wants so the only other option remaining is a little nudge to the hand at his hip and a murmured ‘gimme more baby’. But instead of more he gets left as all attention ceases, and cracking his eyes open he’s met with a lopsided smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

“Wouldn’t recommend…” Rhys’ voice is raspy, throat scratched and most probably slightly clogged from the extra spit and other less decent fluids. “...unless you want your skin getting caught in the joints.” While the idea is more than cringeworthy it also raises a more important question, a slightly loopy laughter bubbling in his chest.

“And just how do you know that princess?”

“Just be glad my 20 years old self was curious enough to learn it the hard, pinchy, boner-killer way.”

On a bright side, the brief distraction serves as an incentive for the other man to shift his position, freeing his flesh arm on which he was leaning till now and finally, finally Jack is getting that additional pressure, the tug and roll along the lips and tongue sliding up and down mind blowing enough that he quickly begins snowballing towards the inevitable end. Or not as inevitable as he might have originally thought as Rhys still manages to effectively stave off his release even when providing far more intensive experience, picking up on the verbal cues of louder whines and stuttered pants to tighten his fingers around the base, hopefully mindful of that one odd finger, all the while pulling back and letting only his breath graze over the damp tip, cool air making Jack’s whole body shiver. It doesn’t take long to reduce him to an incoherent mess on a good day, on a bad day however, he’s past asking for what he wants, breathing out only demanding whimpers and half words, letting himself be fooled into thinking that maybe this time will be the charm every time insistent mouth return to slide down his length, the hand releasing it’s grip and picking up the pace. Truth be told it doesn't last long but if you were to ask Jack he’d surely insist that he has been oh so sweetly tortured for at least an hour straight. However, when the touch doesn’t relent that one time, lips sinking only deeper and Rhys swallows around the hard flesh lodged in his throat, muscles tightening briefly, it is everything Jack needs to let his body be swept under the overwhelming pleasure, momentarily losing his sight and hearing for a second as his body pulls taut, tremor inching up his spine and as the heat in the pit of his stomach spills over, a stifled yowl dances on his lips. The relaxation that comes after is certainly much needed, his muscles going completely lax sans for those few little betrayers that involuntarily tug the corners of his own lips up. The heavy weight goes back to sprawling over his lap and demanding little affections, a shit eating grin tucked into the bunched material of Jack’s sweater.

-II-

“No.”

“Oh come on Rhysie!”

“Abso-fucking-lutely no.” He stares at the portable drive Jack is holding in his open palm, repulsion and disgust curling his lips over his teeth in a snarl. A snarl that only deepens when Jack moves closer, cooing as he goes, sweet words smoothly rolling from his tongue and trying to worm their way into his head.

Rhys shakes his head trying to clear it up a little bit which turns to be even harder when there is a body pressing to his, mismatched eyes shooting him coy glances and the jagged edge of the drive, the one that is supposed to slot with the lock of the port at his temple, gets dragged along his lower lip, light enough to just leave a tingling sensation before the small device ends up carelessly dropped into the front pocket of his vest.

“At least give it some thought?”

“Jack. Please. At the rate at which you’re giving me shit I’ll turn grey by the end of this year.” So maybe the endless teasing has gotten to him. So what. The shameful betrayal is now dyed and hidden from everyone’s eyes, Rhys needing to nearly strangle the other man into promising that this little secret will stay between the two of them.

Regardless, when he leaves their shared apartment, the drive is still securely tucked into his pocket, waiting for a better opportunity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaanywayyy if you've been following me either on twitter or tumblr you probably already know that i've caved in and decided to follow it up with bulletporn lmao so we're not saying goodbye to these two assholes just yet.
> 
> btw, if i have left anything unclear or unexplained, hmu or drop a comment here, i'm soo deeply wrapped into it idk what has makes and what doesn't make sense anymore ;^)

**Author's Note:**

> i live for the comments, feed me :^)


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